start from zero
by countingthenights
Summary: He needs to take the first step on a path unknown to him; she needs to retrace her steps when all ways forward are blocked by walls too high to climb. Somehow, they find themselves back to back at the beginning, placing their blind faith in each other. Ginoza, Akane. Post-canon.
1. zero

Notes: Update schedule and other stuff will be on tumblr because FFnet can be crap sometimes, or most of the time. There aren't any new Enforcers because it works better for me this way. Enjoy.

* * *

**start from zero**

* * *

||1. zero

_Hey, it's scary, isn't it? Letting go of everything,  
But we have to move on, and start from zero._

It was raining that night as well. He remembered the rain because rain brought with it a sense of gloom, a feeling of dread. Not because of the case, no. It came from the knowledge that a new Inspector would be reporting, the dread of wondering _oh no who will I lose someday _– and so his words were every bit as harsh as he intended.

Fast forward five months, and he hadn't lost her yet. He thought he could understand a little of what Kougami must have felt, the inevitability of their similar fates diminishing the importance of whatever small regret they had at leaving someone behind.

Inspector Tsunemori held no grudge against him, something he wasn't magnanimous to do in his time. In fact, she was more than forgiving – she treated him no different from before.

* * *

The other day, he'd visited the prosthetist to report on his mechanical arm and have it adjusted.

After a week of practice, he was beginning to get used to it. Precise control was still out of his reach, but he could carry out all of his daily activities with minimal attention. He expected that with time, he'd be able to thread the damn needle without dropping either the needle or thread and then Karanomori would lose interest in asking him to do it every other hour.

The prothetist had asked him a few questions, told him to do a few simple exercises, and then ignored him while he typed haphazardly on his tablet. Ginoza could tell that it was a report of some sort, probably the last one that needed to be filed for him. He had no interest in interpreting the medical terms as long as everything was going as it should.

Halfway through, he remembered and brought up that sometimes, he felt pain in the arm that the prosthetic replaced. It was ridiculous, because plastic and metal couldn't possibly feel pain. Was it normal?

"Perfectly," he answered absent-mindedly. "You were feeling pain even before, weren't you, Ginoza-san? In the missing arm? It should go away eventually when your brain readjusts to having an arm back."

That was true. He'd lost count of how many times he woke up in the isolation facility under the haze of drugs, _screaming_, reaching for the mutilated arm he saw in his dreams, reaching for his dying father, realizing that neither were there. And then the pain would slowly worm its way into his consciousness and take over from there, there was no way to make it go away, no way to make it better when it resided in flesh that was air, bone that was dust. Every time this happened he'd inevitably end up huddling in a corner, gritting his teeth while he clutched at his stump of a shoulder. Every time the warning announcements would start and the drones would come with the facility doctors in tow, telling him the _doubtlessly clouded_ color of his Hue and that he should calm down – as though he could – while gas flooded the room and the cycle started again.

When he left the facility, he went off the drugs. They couldn't numb the pain that only existed in his head, and added nightmares on top of that.

"Although, if it bothers you, I could get the physician to prescribe some painkillers," the prosthetist offered.

Ginoza shook his head. He'd had enough of those for the rest of his life.

* * *

The interior of the paddy wagon was pitch black and silent; the screen that usually played the news was dark today. In the accompanying silence, the muted patter of raindrops on the roof could be heard, an inconsistent music that managed consistency through sheer frequency.

Kunizuka radiated boredom from her seat opposite him. Boredom hidden under a veneer of professionalism. He'd once wondered if she was always like that, whether in front of her superiors or not, but never cared enough to have that answered. Even now, he still couldn't be sure if this was her default or if she was putting up this front on account of the fact that he used to be her boss.

They were the only two being transported today. Neither of them mentioned the absence of the others, Enforcers who used to be Hounds 1 and 3 and 4. Only Hound 2 remained, and Ginoza could only worry whether the collar left behind by Hound 1 would fit him. His father had been a great detective at the expense of being a father, but Ginoza didn't think intuition could be genetically inherited.

Unlike disposition towards latent criminality.

There were two hounds where there once were four; there was one shepherd where there once were two. They had managed to replace the shepherd, but in the aftermath of the riots and with the desertion of three (officially; Ginoza suspected the number was more likely two) Enforcers, the criteria for selecting job candidates were tightened, and it left the department more understaffed than ever. There was even talk of doubling the existing Enforcers' shifts across divisions to make up for the shortage of manpower, and despite protests it would probably be implemented soon.

It made reasonable sense to, he supposed. With only two Enforcers in the division, they could only manage one shift if they followed the present guidelines on work hours. That was fine if there was only one Inspector. Now that they were getting a new one assigned, it would be inefficient if all four of them ended up on the same shifts all the time.

For now, he was just relieved. This meant that Inspector Tsunemori would have more time to mentor the new Inspector. Was she ready for that responsibility? He had faith in her capabilities, but he couldn't help feeling that it was too much, too soon.

Admittedly, he hadn't exactly been a passable mentor either. Resting his head against the wall behind him, he briefly thought about the first time he met her. There was nothing in their exchange that could be considered truly helpful, and he had been working in Public Safety for almost eight years then.

There wasn't anything to worry about. Really, Inspector Tsunemori would do a much better job than he did.

* * *

Naturally, Kunizuka refused to go easy on him when they sparred. He didn't ask, and she didn't offer.

After the third time she winded him, felled him and pinned him down with a well-placed foot to the throat, he was sure that she wasn't even going to consider easing up. There was a very steep learning curve ahead of him, indeed.

"How does this help, exactly?" he asked as she removed her foot and allowed him to sit up. He wasn't too thrilled about landing on the mat three times in a row, but he couldn't be bitter about it either. It didn't come as a surprise to him.

Kunizuka sipped her mineral water casually as she fixed him with an unblinking eye. "It doesn't."

He waited for her to explain. She didn't, choosing to ignore him while she capped her bottle and set it aside. This didn't come as a surprise either. Kunizuka had always been reticent. He learned more about her through a plastic pane when he tried to convince her to become an Enforcer than from working with her in the years following her acceptance.

Understanding that if he wanted to know anything he'd have to ask, he got to feet wearily. "What should I be doing then?"

She shrugged. "I guess it's good for you to try it out."

Not for the first time, he wished Kougami was the one in front of him instead. Kougami, with his annoying, borderline arrogant demeanor. Kougami, with his needlessly verbose explanations that Ginoza didn't care about ninety-nine percent of the time.

Kougami, who he now understood more than ever. Sometimes, that man had impeccably bad timing. Did he have to run off _before_ Ginoza became an Enforcer?

Well, it wasn't as if Makishima's existence was Kougami's choice. Ginoza was probably just bitter because he had to swallow one too many unsaid words and trudge on as the one left behind.

A dull clicking noise caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Kunizuka tapping on the exposed metal of his prosthetic arm with a fingernail.

"What is it?"

"This is supposed to be a lot stronger than a normal arm, right?"

"… That's what the prosthetist said."

Without missing a beat she hooked her foot behind his knee and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back staring up at her, too stunned to even speak. "It's useless if the rest of you can't keep up," she stated nonchalantly.

That roughly translated to 'train some more', he supposed. Kunizuka was easy to understand once you knew how. In any case, she was relatively direct and to the point. _She_ didn't wind seemingly pointless circles around the point and speak in half-sentences unintentionally designed to leave the listener racking their brains for hours after.

Honestly, it wasn't as if he couldn't understand Kougami. He just didn't try. He thought he did, but he was actually waiting for Kougami to understand him.

* * *

The vehicle came to a smooth stop, and soft light diffused in from the exterior. It was still raining, but Kunizuka acted as though she didn't notice, maintaining her stately pace as she walked down the ramp.

Ginoza followed her lead, with his hands in the pockets of his coat. The rain refracted the glaring lights of the drones, making them seem muted and gentler. Under the temporary shelter set up as a base for this operation, two petite figures were already visible. One was obviously Inspector Tsunemori. The other was most likely the new Inspector. He would be lying if he said that his first reaction was confidence. The new Inspector was small, moved with uncertainty – what was he expecting, she was still a minor – but, he reminded himself, so was Inspector Tsunemori at first and look how far she had come since then.

Not that he was entirely proud about every aspect of her progress, either. All it took was one look at her to see the coldness in her eyes, the dispassionate set of her mouth, and then he would question if that was how they all were at twenty-one. Maybe they were. Probably not.

They took shelter from the rain as Inspector Tsunemori outlined her plan. Although this was an abandoned block, she explained, the situation was fairly manageable. The target was most likely alone, though armed since several street scanners had been disabled around here. He was probably prioritizing escape over confrontation, and the idea was to nail him before he figured out an escape plan. She would take Kunizuka-san and capture the target as quickly as possible, failing that they would attempt to box him into the warehouse area on the far side. Meanwhile, would Ginoza-san kindly accompany Inspector Shimotsuki in securing the link between the block and the warehouse area?

All this was said matter-of-factly, with no room for disagreement despite her polite words. Kunizuka digested it impassively, and he found nothing to question or suggest otherwise.

They armed themselves with the Dominators and left. Inspector Shimotsuki – her resemblance to the Inspector Tsunemori he first met was striking – looked at him expectantly.

"Ginoza-san… is it? Shall we be on our way?"

Ginoza nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. "I believe Inspector Tsunemori intended for us to reach the warehouses from the outside." If he had read her intentions correctly, that was.

Inspector Shimotsuki pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "That makes sense. Let's go by that way, then."

* * *

Being an Enforcer didn't make as much difference as he thought it would. Of course, there was the conspicuous lack of freedom that Kagari never failed to bitch about at every chance. There was constant supervision, by Inspectors at work and drones where Inspectors weren't.

The real surprise was that it didn't feel as stifling as he expected it to. It was almost as if there was no real difference in his life. Even when he was 'free', he spent more time cooped up in his apartment than anywhere else.

Besides, the Sibyl System was always watching every street corner and park and anywhere else he might go. So much for being free.

Inspector Tsunemori had been kind enough to spend one of her days off helping him clean up the room that belonged to Masaoka. There was, naturally, a great deal that had to be disposed of, and in fact the policy was for all personal belongings of inactive Enforcers to be discarded. Ginoza didn't feel anything when tossing his father's clothes and art supplies into the large cardboard box, but he drew the line at the collection of paintings and alcohol. The alcohol still sat untouched on the shelves, and the paintings remained stacked against the walls, covered by transparent plastic sheeting. He had no idea what he was going to do with them, they were just taking up space. It simply felt blasphemous to throw away anything that was so personal that it was almost as if they carried a bit of his father's soul within them.

That was, if souls existed. The concept of souls sounded like something that came from a time where there were elements of a human that could remain intangible, a romantic idea that no doubt would have had more credibility before cymatic scans made it possible for the intangibility to be quantified and made legible.

Despite that, they remained and Ginoza was getting slightly better at ignoring the wave of regret that rushed at him every time he looked over.

However, there was one important difference between living outside and living at the Bureau.

He had, with trepidation and some guilt, mentioned the existence of his dog to Inspector Tsunemori as they sealed the boxes marked for disposal. Dime was a very old dog, over twenty years old, but had been healthy the last he saw him. Ginoza wasn't too worried because the artificial intelligence that ran his apartment would have taken care of feeding Dime, and once it appeared that his latent criminal status was permanent, his apartment would have been repossessed along with his dog. Whatever it was, Ginoza was sure that barring old age, Dime would be fine. It didn't mean that he wouldn't miss his only remaining family member though.

"So where is he now?" Inspector Tsunemori asked with a hint of cheer in her voice. He couldn't blame her. In hindsight, the stories of his childhood were more amusing than not.

Ginoza shrugged as he wrote 'For Disposal' on the beige masking tape. "He's most likely in a dog shelter now." If his age hadn't caught up with him yet.

"Oh." Inspector Tsunemori's face fell a little. "Aren't you concerned about him?"

"It doesn't matter," he told her. "He'll be well-taken care of." Ginoza had considered asking her to find out where Dime was sent as a favor, but he thought she had quite enough on her shoulders without him adding his selfish requests.

She seemed unconvinced, and when he looked up, she was staring at him from the other side of the box.

The intensity of her stare made him uncomfortable. "What?"

"I think it'd be nice if you relied on me a bit more, Ginoza-san," she said with a touch of wistfulness. "It sounds like he means a lot to you."

Perceptive, as expected. "Inspector Tsunemori, it's really alright…"

She sighed and instructed the drone to pick up the box. The brown expanse that he was writing on only a moment ago rose a few inches and scooted away smoothly, accompanied by a faint whirring noise. "You're as stubborn as always. He responds to 'Dime', right?"

"Inspector Tsunemori, what are you—" he was cut off when she took a step forward and looked directly into his eyes. Despite the height difference between them, he felt as though it was insignificant when she wore such a determined expression.

"No matter what you say, I'm going to find out where he is. Of course, it'll be much easier if you'll help me."

Her face finally softened into a smile again, and Ginoza promptly forgot all about trying to talk her out of it.

* * *

Around the time where Inspector Tsunemori was briefing them, the rain had lightened into a drizzle. Their route was slick with water, and careless splashes accompanied their progress.

"Um… may I ask what kind of criteria do you use to judge crime?"

Surprised, Ginoza looked over his shoulder at the new Inspector that was trailing closely behind him. The Dominator in her hands was held at shoulder level with its mouth pointing upwards, and her finger was already on the trigger. Her brow was furrowed, her posture defensive. It was as though she really wanted to know but didn't know if she should ask.

As for himself, he had no idea what she was referring to. "What do you mean by that?"

Seeing that he wasn't about to chew her head off for asking such a question, she lowered the Dominator slightly, her fingers relaxing on the grip. "I-Inspector Tsunemori said that you all have different criteria for judging crime, s-so…"

He couldn't resist letting out a wry chuckle at that. He could only think of several instances where that explanation would have been appropriate, but he was sure that Inspector Tsunemori only had one person in mind when she said that. "That sounds like something she would say."

"So it's true?" she pressed, and he could see the clinical blue glow of the Dominator reflected in those wide eyes.

Ginoza gave a non-committal shrug and faced forward. "I'm not very sure about that. It's difficult to explain how you judge someone as a criminal. Do you have a list of criteria that you use? Can you explain it if I asked you to?"

Her footsteps faltered for a second, but she recovered almost immediately. "Not really…"

"Anyway, at the end of the day, we Enforcers have to follow the orders of the Inspectors and the judgment of the Dominators, so you shouldn't let it bother you." Only they didn't always obey, and he knew that. Still, he saw no point in overwhelming the new Inspector on her first day of work.

"I understand! I look forward to working with you!"

"Likewise, Inspector."

They were emerging from the brightly lit, populated streets of the district to the quieter storage areas. If they continued on, they would reach the harbor, but that wasn't where they were supposed to be. They were supposed to watch the link between the abandoned office buildings and the warehouses. Silently, he took a left turn down the next alley to reach their destination. Even though they were just backup, it didn't mean they could slack off.

Inspector Tsunemori probably already managed to narrow down the possible places where their target was hiding, he thought, which explained her decisiveness. Kunizuka was faster and more reactive that he was, and between the two of them they would probably make it a quick, all-or-nothing strike that had a high probability of success. Asking him and Inspector Shimotsuki to come all this way was more a formality than any real need for backup.

They emerged into an open space. On two adjacent sides, the concrete walls of single-story warehouses blocked off the artificial lights of the bustling entertainment district and left potential escape routes to narrow alleyways. On one, a two-way road separated them from the abandoned office block. On the last side, a mountain of crates cast stark jagged shadows over the concrete slabs.

Ginoza slipped the Dominator into its holster and headed for the crates, hoisting himself on top of the nearest one and testing to see if it would take his weight. The damp wood didn't even creak, so he bent down and offered his gloved left hand to Inspector Shimotsuki. Her eyes widened as she took it and felt unyielding metal under the leather instead of softer flesh, but she didn't hesitate and climbed up beside him.

She must have been curious. He could see it in the way she held herself: angled to keep him in sight, the bob of her ponytail as she shot glances down at his hand. The piled crates behind them hid them in shadows, and the height provided them a clear view of the road. From here, it was not impossible to take down someone using the Dominator… though he doubted that he or Inspector Shimotsuki would be up to that.

"If you don't mind me asking…" Inspector Shimotsuki looked distinctly uncomfortable, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Is that a prosthetic arm?"

"Yes," he replied shortly.

He was sure that what she wanted to ask was _what happened and when_, but – perhaps out of courtesy – she refrained and sidestepped the issue.

For a few moments, there was only the sound of the wispy breeze blowing through narrow alleys to the harbor, a wind that carried the scent of dirt and smoke from the city.

"What else did Inspector Tsunemori tell you?" Ginoza asked, though he kept his eyes and most of his attention on the other side of the road.

"Eh? Um… She said that I should trust you, but at the same time be c—" here she stumbled, "be cautious."

"She's right about that, Inspector." He should have known that Inspector Tsunemori would do a much better job of breaking in the rookie than he did. Really, he shouldn't have worried.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blue after-trails of light from the Dominator as Inspector Shimotsuki presumably fidgeted. "She also said that the CID is very short on manpower, so she can't treat me like a newbie."

_This_ got his attention. Those words, the way they were phrased, sounded familiar somehow.

"But she's actually letting me hang back now, isn't she?" continued Inspector Shimotsuki. He couldn't make out her expression in the dark, but her voice sounded pensive.

He was about to shrug it off with a '_who knows'_ – but was cut off by an incoming call. That was sooner than he expected, and could mean either bad or very good news.

_[This is Shepherd 1. We have the target. Shepherd 2 and Hound 1, please return to base.]_

Hound 1. He was Hound 1 now. Somehow hearing it for the first time didn't leave as much impact as he thought it would.

He exchanged a look with Inspector Shimotsuki, who seemed to be keeping up fairly well. Was she glad that the other team had succeeded? Cautiously, he got off the crate and held out his hand again to help her down.

As expected, they weren't really needed this time round. He felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed – relieved because it was his first mission on the front lines, as an Enforcer, and disappointed because he felt like he was being coddled and not trusted. Much as he didn't want it to, much as it felt wrong, disappointment won out and he was left to hope that it didn't show too obviously.

In silence, they headed back to report, this time cutting through the abandoned block. It was shorter going through it, and there was no point in going around now.

"Ginoza-san, if I may ask one more question?"

He nearly tripped over a rusted pipe that he didn't quite see in the terribly inadequate lighting, but recovered quickly enough that it wasn't noticeable (he hoped).

"What is it?"

"The other Enforcer… is Kunizuka-san, am I right?"

That question seemed slightly out of place to him, though he answered without a second thought. Too many other things were clouding his mind for him to pay attention to anything else.

* * *

It was only when they were back in the suffocating darkness of the paddy wagon that Kunizuka brought it up.

"Ginoza."

Surprised that she was starting a conversation with him, he could only manage a wordless vocalization in response.

Kunizuka correctly took that as assent and went on. "Do you remember her? The new Inspector."

"What are you talking about?" He had no idea what she was driving at, and in the dark he couldn't see what kind of expression she was wearing either. Not that it would have helped at all, her face was usually as emotionless as her voice.

"She should still be at Oso Academy."

It took him a second to catch her point. "… I see."

The facts fitted nicely: her age, her mentality, her job evaluation. Ginoza wasn't sure if this meant he could worry less or if he should worry more.

... He'd probably end up worrying more.

* * *

_End of chapter 1_


	2. a sky with corners

Notes: Getting around to replying the reviews. Thank you for putting up with me.

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||2. a sky with corners

"I'm really sorry to have to leave now, I'll come early tomorrow!"

Inspector Shimotsuki had been bowing and apologizing to the whole division for the last five minutes. Ginoza thought that she was defeating the point of leaving early by doing this.

Apparently Inspector Tsunemori thought so too, because she looked worn out as she waved off her colleague's apologies for approximately the twenty-eighth time. "It's fine. Go, you'll be late."

He had to concede that her exhaustion was more likely a consequence of the fact that their shift was supposed to have ended two hours ago. Although none of them left the office or even suggested that they end for the day, it was clear that they were reaching their limits.

Even Inspector Tsunemori, the most driven of them all, was beginning to look fatigued. Before Inspector Shimotsuki tentatively mentioned that her parents were expecting her at the train station tonight, Inspector Tsunemori had been opening files and staring at them blankly for a few minutes before realizing that wasn't the one she wanted. Ginoza himself wasn't much more focused, obviously, or he wouldn't have been able to produce such a detailed description of her activities.

"But—"

Kunizuka ended the argument by standing up abruptly, causing her chair to squeak loudly against the floor as the wheels failed to align in time. "If there's nothing else, Inspector, I'll be taking my leave. Thank you for your hard work." Dramatically, she swept out of the office doors, only taking the time to acknowledge Inspector Shimotsuki with a nod.

The glass doors slid shut with a hiss, and in the ensuing silence Ginoza swore he could hear the sound of the usually silent ceiling fan whirring as he pretended to be busy filing loose documents.

Inspector Tsunemori smiled faintly. "Well, that's it then. There's no point in continuing without Kunizuka-san. There's no point in continuing to loop around the same facts for another two hours, period. You shouldn't make your parents wait."

"Well, um… Thank you for your hard work, I'll see you tomorrow!" Inspector Shimotsuki bowed one last time and awkwardly hurried out of the office. The glass doors slid shut once more, and Ginoza stared blankly at the report in his hands as he realized that he was left alone in the office with Inspector Tsunemori.

The silence between them felt oppressive now that they didn't have work to fall back on. Should he leave as well? Did she expect him to stay? It wasn't unusual for them to go through the evidence together after the rest had left, but she said that there wasn't any point to it and he agreed there wasn't.

Just when he thought that it was probably best to pretend not to notice anything and keep organizing his documents, she broke the silence between them. "Kunizuka-san really likes Shimotsuki, doesn't she? I've never seen her leave early before."

Relieved that she picked a relatively safe topic to start with, he turned to face her. He was occupying the workstation that was right in front of hers, which made for easy communication when they had a case to work on. Although at times like this, it was pressurizing. "Kunizuka has a second shift at Division 3 in four hours," he pointed out.

A week ago, the Ministry of Welfare had finally approved the proposal for extending Enforcers' work hours as a temporary measure for the manpower crunch plaguing the Public Safety Bureau. The Inspectors from all three divisions tried to make it work through various means, including shortening the duration of a shift, but the fact remained that some of the Enforcers would have to be present at the shifts of other divisions in order to meet the minimum work hours without wearing themselves out. Kunizuka's additional shift was at Division 3 today, and he had one scheduled at Division 2 on Sunday, two days from now.

Wearing a smile that was commonly seen on her these days – diplomatic and a bit guarded – she sighed and rested her chin in her hands. "I know. I asked if she could manage and… she ignored me."

The look of disappointment on her face was so fake and funny that despite himself, he laughed. "Don't worry, Kunizuka can handle herself."

"Mm-hm. By the way, Ginoza-san, I didn't know you could read upside down."

What? He glanced down at the report he was holding and felt heat flood his face. It was indeed upside down, and he turned it the right way up immediately. Clearly, one of the disadvantages of sitting right in front of Inspector Tsunemori's workstation was that she could see everything he was doing.

She was still giving him that knowing look, however, so he hurriedly stuffed the report into a folder of similar reports and changed the subject. "Do you want to go through the evidence one more time?"

Almost before he finished his question, she shook her head. "No, I don't think we'll get anything out of it. Moreover, aren't you hungry? Let's go eat."

Now that she mentioned it, Ginoza realized that he was and had been for a while. With a nod, he quickly cleared his workstation, picked up his coat and followed Inspector Tsunemori out of the office, along the corridor that led past the different Divisions' offices to the cafeteria.

Then she took a turn that would lead her to the elevators, and he was confused for a moment. He'd assumed that they would be going together, but she was heading the wrong way for that. Did she mean to leave after all?

Evidently so, because she turned back as she sensed his hesitation and flashed another one of those guarded smiles at him. "Let's go somewhere else tonight. I'm sure you're tired of the cafeteria."

He couldn't resist pointing out that he had been patronizing the Bureau's cafeteria for eight years as he caught up with her. Not that he was about to turn down an invitation from her.

"Well, even if you aren't bored, I am," she said, still smiling. "Besides, there's somewhere I want to go."

* * *

This 'somewhere' Inspector Tsunemori wanted to go turned out to be an izakaya. Ginoza had his doubts when they first pulled up along the street and saw the red paper lantern hanging outside the store, but as it became increasingly obvious that the izakaya was her destination, he thought it would be prudent to ask the important questions before they went inside.

"Inspector Tsunemori, you drink?"

She blinked innocently at him. "Yes. Does that surprise you?"

Yes. Yes, it did. The last place he expected that Inspector Tsunemori would want to go to was an establishment specializing in serving alcohol. He refrained from commenting, though, and settled for reminding himself (repeatedly) that she was of legal drinking age.

Half an hour and three glasses of wine later, he was reminding himself that she was only twenty-one. He had been worried when she started drinking the alcohol like it was water, but so far she didn't seem the slightest bit intoxicated yet, apart from a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Remembering his first disastrous experience with alcohol, he had been more modest than she was, only sipping occasionally from his own glass as he picked at the dishes they ordered. Given that he had largely avoided drinking since that one time Sasayama brought Kougami and him to a hostess club, he wasn't nearly as confident in his abilities to show up at work without a hangover the next day.

"I've always wanted to come to a place like this," Inspector Tsunemori sighed as she looked around, taking in the cozy interior of the izakaya and other patrons.

They were sitting at the bar and the high seats afforded them a decent view of the rest of the establishment, which consisted of traditional tatami mats and low tables on one end and modern seating options on the other. Ginoza had no idea why she chose the bar, but he didn't mind since it seemed to be a fairly slow night where less than a third of the seats were filled. Apart from the bartender throwing a few curious looks at the gloves he refused to remove, the bar afforded them a relatively high degree of solitude.

"Masaoka-san told me about them when he found out that I went drinking with Kagari-kun once," she continued, her eyes traveling across the tables but not really seeing them. "I thought it'd be nice to take them to one."

Not knowing how to respond, he simply sipped his wine and observed her reflection in highly polished mahogany of the bar. He had vague memories of his father coming home late on winter nights, smelling of the same sharp sweetness that the contents of his glass of wine did. A low voice laughing as its owner checked on his supposedly sleeping child, a tipsy hand pulling the comforter a tad too high. He could tell all this to Inspector Tsunemori, but it wasn't likely to make her feel any better.

"Kagari-kun would love it here," she added, draining the rest of her glass in one shot.

Ginoza knew even less about Kagari, so he remained silent. Kagari joined Division 1 at a time where he was more disinterested in Enforcers than ever. How ironic that now as an Enforcer himself, he was here drinking with an Inspector. And was it his imagination, or was it getting warmer?

Inspector Tsunemori glanced at him. "Are you usually this quiet when you drink?" she asked softly.

Her voice was like a warm blanket that had settled around his shoulders, and he was reluctant to shrug it off by answering. "I was just thinking." His own voice sounded dry and flat and not conversational at all in comparison.

"About?"

"About the case." That was only partially true. He wasn't thinking entirely about the case, but about how his father or Kougami might have picked up on something everyone else overlooked if they were here.

She caught on immediately, though. "Things might have been different if they were here…" He didn't doubt that the 'they' she meant was the same 'they' he was thinking of.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. There were some emotions that even alcohol could not take the edge out of, and like some terrible coincidence, the past was related to all of them. The silence stretched and grew, until Ginoza became aware of the clicking of the other customers' utensils from the corner, accompanied by drunken laughter. Sizzling from the kitchen, the strident snaps of heels on wooden flooring. And underneath it all, some uninspiring instrumental music that he hadn't even noticed, because it was simply that unremarkable.

"I'm sorry," he said at last.

There was an understanding smile on her face as she played with her empty glass, using it as a reason to avoid making eye contact. "What are you apologizing for?"

Many things. Everything. From his careless words at their first meeting to not living up to his own expectations now, the list of things he should apologize for was endless. He didn't do an outstanding job as an Inspector or as her senior. "I'm not doing a very good job as a hound either, am I?"

As usual, she picked up on his intentions easily. "Don't say that, Ginoza-san. You're still a respectable sempai to me."

Although he disagreed, there was an undeniable warmth filling his chest, one that he couldn't attribute to the alcohol. "Inspector Tsunemori, you're too kind."

"About that, Ginoza-san… 'Tsunemori' is fine, you know?"

He glanced up to see that she had abandoned her empty glass and was looking at him with an expectant frown. "Inspector Tsunemori, that is—"

"'Tsunemori.'"

"Inspector—"

"'Tsunemori.'"

Ginoza gave up. "Only outside of work." What went on outside of work was no one's concern, but there was usually an expectation of deference that he knew Inspector Tsunemori – he should really just start thinking of her as 'Tsunemori' now – didn't care for.

Tsunemori looked adequately appeased as she let her frown melt into a small smile. Was it his imagination, or did it feel more genuine than usual? A bit looser around the corners, fewer shadows in her eyes… "That's fine for now."

_For now?_ There was something admirable in her tenacity to achieve what she wanted at all costs, but he wasn't sure what it was in this situation. Well, it didn't matter. For now he was content to just sit back, sip his wine, and enjoy her company.

"Hey, Ginoza-san, what do you think about the Sibyl System?"

Of all people, Tsunemori was the last person he expected this from. At the same time, he had been wondering when she was going to ask. She was the one who had the most reason to distrust the system, and yet, forgiving as she was, the one with the most faith in it. "… Why do you ask?"

She traced the rim of her glass with a finger, again paying it more attention than she did her conversation partner. "Just curious."

"I don't know," he told her honestly. "I think I trusted it and still do now… probably. I can't forget that it took care of me as a child, but…"

"… but it's also the reason you needed to be cared for," she finished serenely. "Isn't it nice to have the Sibyl System? We can't take responsibility for our choices when we didn't make them."

He was startled at the bitterness in her voice. "Tsunemori…"

"Well, if we're done here then we should go. It's late."

The change in topic was abrupt but he had somehow anticipated it – it wasn't in anyone's best interests to speak about the Sibyl System like they did. Those who did were usually people with nothing to lose, people who were latent criminals like him. That category didn't include Tsunemori and he wasn't about to let it include her as long as he could do something about it.

They didn't speak again as they settled the bill (tacitly agreeing to split it) and left the izakaya. Even though they were well into spring, the nights were still cold. Or was it just how Tsunemori was making him feel with her heartless rebuff of his concern?

"Good night, Ginoza-san," she said as she dropped him off at the Bureau's basement.

"Good night."

Wishing that he had said something more, he waited until he could no longer see the silhouette of her car before he gave in to the drone's insistence and returned to the Enforcers' level.

* * *

Two weeks ago, civilians started disappearing from the Setagaya ward in Tokyo. The street scanners recorded them going about their daily routine, leaving their apartments, showing up at work… Then they simply stopped registering on the scanners, leaving their neighbors and coworkers to report their disappearance.

There were too many possibilities still open at this point, too little data to draw concrete trends from, but no one in Division 1 thought it was a coincidence that the disappearances were concentrated in Kitazawa.

* * *

Saturday's shift passed in the same way that Friday's did: long, dreary and fruitless. They had all started breaking down the data, looking for any patterns that might lead them forward, but the sample size of only eleven people wasn't helping. Many of their observations might well be dead ends, but seemed significant when drawn from the small pool of data. It was up to them to prioritize which ones to investigate and that proved to be more challenging than expected.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tsunemori glance at her watch and stand up. "That's all for me today. Thank you for your hard work."

"Oh, you're leaving already?" Inspector Shimotsuki looked up from her workstation with a puzzled look.

"I have a date tonight," Tsunemori explained as she systematically cleared her workstation.

A date? Inspector Shimotsuki's interest was clearly piqued, and even Kunizuka paused in her typing for a moment. Ginoza kept his face carefully blank, but he couldn't help listening closely.

As though she realized that her coworkers were coming to all sorts of conclusions, Tsunemori immediately held up her hands in defense, throwing a meaningful look at Ginoza. "It's just, my parents set me up on a blind date. That's all."

"So you've never even met your date?" Kunizuka pushed her tablet aside to regard her superior with a rare look of concern. "And you're alright with that?"

Ginoza was sure that he wasn't invited to participate in – or even listen in on – this conversation between the ladies, but it wasn't as if he could avoid hearing it when they were all in the same room. He had given up on trying to focus on the charts and graphs in front of him, either way.

"W-Well, it's a match determined by Sibyl, so it should be alright." Taken aback by the strength of their interest, Tsunemori glanced over at him again as though to say 'help me out here'. He gave her a helpless shrug, so small that it was almost imperceptible. This was out of his league. "Anyway, it's just a date!"

Inspector Shimotsuki nodded thoughtfully. "That's true, Sibyl's matches are usually quite good. But even so—"

"Ah, look at the time! I need to go! See you on Monday!" The look of panic on her face was almost certainly faked as she picked up her bag and rushed out of the office.

"Tsunemori-san!"

Inspector Shimotsuki's cry echoed off the walls and died away. Kunizuka slammed her tablet back into its storage space and threw Ginoza a dirty look.

He didn't even say or do anything! "What?"

"You're hopeless," she deadpanned. "Why did I think that I could count on you?"

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't think of anything he did that would warrant such harsh judgment. "Kunizuka, what do you—"

She ignored him. "Let's go, Inspector," she said, snatching up her coat and marching out with a sympathetic-looking Inspector Shimotsuki in tow.

He was so stunned by this turn of events, he remained frozen in his seat for a few seconds. What exactly did Kunizuka expect from him? He didn't have any experience with dating to speak of, so it wasn't as if he could offer any sound advice. Besides, Tsunemori's personal life wasn't supposed to be any of his concern.

Resolving to put it out of his mind for now, he turned off his own computer and left the office. Kunizuka was probably far ahead by now, but he preferred not to run into her even by accident, so he meandered slowly along the hallways, lost in his own thoughts.

It was ridiculous. Tsunemori already said it was a blind date, and it was her parents' idea to boot. Even if it wasn't, what did he have to complain about? What Tsunemori did outside of work wasn't any of his concern. He was just a subordinate who happened to have a closer-than-usual relationship with her. Anything more than that was just his own wishful thinking, and he couldn't – _shouldn't_ – be so selfish as to impose that on her.

"—za-kuuuuun, can you hear me?"

Ginoza's head snapped up, and he took a few steps backwards to peer through the open doors of the nearest room. In this case, it was the analysis lab, and the one calling out to him was a Karanomori pouting at him over the back of her couch.

"You called?" he asked dryly. A pouting Karanomori hardly ever bode well for him. After he had mastered threading a needle without dropping it, she went on to find more _interesting_ challenges for him to try out. He outright refused the most ridiculous of them, but it was easier for him to humor her when she had too much free time and a persistence that would put dry rot to shame.

She made a flapping 'come here' motion with her hand. "Ginoza-kun, won't you keep me company for a while? Yayoi is mad about something," here she hid a snicker behind her hands, "and anyway, she needs her beauty sleep."

Warily, he stepped into the darkened lab, lit by the many screens displaying various figures and codes that he only recognized a fraction of. Of everyone in the Bureau, Karanomori adapted to his demotion most comfortably, taking advantage of the fact that he was no longer her superior to drag him into errands and various other pointless activities that he would have refused if he could – except that Karanomori was not only persistent, but unfortunately adept at collecting blackmail material as well.

"What is it this time?" he asked with a touch of apprehension. The last time Karanomori asked him to 'keep her company', she put him to work diluting 97 percent ethanol down to various concentrations that seemed completely arbitrary to him. The ethanol smelled strange, it made his head spin five minutes into the task, and his hands (both of them) started trembling. At that point, she peered over his shoulder and told him, with poorly disguised glee, "Did I say ethanol? My bad, it was chloroform."

All things considered, despite her rather _unique_ brand of humor, Ginoza found that he very much preferred interacting with her as an Enforcer than as an Inspector. She was just that much more personable when they took hierarchies and work out of the equation.

Her pout grew twice as pronounced. "Can't I just want company? Honestly, you're so stiff… What a boring man…" Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she sprang off the couch and into her chair. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, took one for herself and offered the rest to him. He shook his head, and she shrugged, tossing the pack carelessly on her desk. "You're the same as always."

The irony of her statement wasn't lost on him, but he wasn't in the mood for her jokes today. "What is it this time?" he repeated, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. He doubted that she was actually as bored as she claimed to be, if the different programs running simultaneously across all the screens were anything to go by.

She pretended not to hear him, lighting up her cigarette and taking a long drag before typing something on her tablet. "By the way, I heard Akane-chan is going on a date today."

Her way of changing the subject had all the subtlety of a bulldozer, which is to say, none. She couldn't make it more obvious that she wanted to talk about it if she tried. It was to be expected, since he recalled that Karanomori liked Tsunemori very much on top of harboring an unhealthy interest in the details of everyone's lives.

"Yes, she is." This conversation seemed set to go places that he'd rather it not.

"So, who's the lucky guy?"

"No idea."

Karanomori frowned disapprovingly at him, the cigarette between her lips twitching as she regarded him with the same air that Kunizuka did earlier. "You didn't even ask what kind of person he was?"

Why was she treating him like Tsunemori's personal secretary? It wasn't his responsibility to know, even if he was curious himself. "It's a blind date matched by the Sibyl System, he should be fairly compatible with her."

"Oh, really?" The level of derision in her voice was unexpected. He hadn't thought that she would have such a negative opinion of the matching process. Karanomori stubbed her cigarette out against the ashtray and went back to typing. "Hey, if you were matched by the system, would you accept whoever you were matched with?"

What did she want now? He couldn't quite get at what she was driving at and this made him nervous. "That depends on who it is, doesn't it?" he replied cautiously.

"What if I told you I know who your match is?"

He actually laughed out loud at this. "Don't be ridiculous. Latent criminals can't apply to be matched."

A shifty look entered her eye. "Well… we can't, but… Masa-san was so worried that you'd never get a girlfriend back then… I had to help him out, you know? Even though we didn't know how we'd manage to get you to meet her…"

Of course it'd be something like this. Of course. "How did you even manage to submit the application?" This sounded extremely suspicious, in his opinion. As far as he knew, it couldn't be submitted anonymously to prevent possibility of abuse.

"Trade secret." Karanomori winked and gave him a cheeky grin. "Anyway, anyway, that's not the point. If I told you who she is, what she does and what she likes, would you accept her just like that?"

"That's not a fair comparison," he pointed out. "I'm a latent criminal now." Even the most accepting people would have difficulty committing to a relationship where there were no long-term prospects.

"Pretend that she doesn't mind that, alright?" Karanomori's grin grew thin with impatience. "Or anything, in fact. Assume that she's hot too, 'cause she is."

He leveled a judgmental glare at her. She flapped her hand at him in a placating manner. However, she seemed serious despite her playful demeanor, so Ginoza considered it for a few short moments. "I don't think I can."

"Why not? Sibyl's matches are supposed to be the most compatible, right?"

"… I'm not so concerned about that."

"Because of Akane-chan?"

Ginoza choked and gaped at her while he tried to find words to deny it. "N-No, that's not it at all!"

"Liar." Smug satisfaction dripped from every syllable.

He opened his mouth to protest, couldn't find any words, and closed it again. The victorious smirk on Karanomori's face grew wider with every passing second.

It was true that Tsunemori was someone special to him, certainly. She gave him hope when he had given up on wanting to try. He had no doubt that she was part of the reason that he didn't fall into despair over the events following Makishima's death. She helped him come to terms with the present, and he attached too much value to her words, her actions, where there logically wouldn't be any. Between a computed perfect match and Tsunemori, he'd easily choose the latter and follow her anywhere, even if their current relationship was all there could be between them.

"I am… fond of her," he admitted at last. "But that's—"

The analyst burst out laughing. Confused and flustered, Ginoza stared at her. "What's so funny?"

Karanomori, almost doubled over, tears in her eyes, moved her shaking hands to her tablet and keyed in a command. "Sorry," she said, gasping and trying to suppress her laughter. A moment later, a familiar voice issued from the speakers.

_[I am… fond of her.]_

All Ginoza could do was to keep staring. In horror.

"I won't show this to Akane-chan, of course. She should hear it from you. But if you want to make sure…" Karanomori put a finger to her lip as she pondered the possibilities. "It's been a long day, you know, and a milkshake sounds really tempting right now."

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Tsunemori showed up to an inquisition on Monday morning.

"Tsunemori-san! How was your date?"

"Did you have a good evening, Inspector Tsunemori?"

Tsunemori waved off all the questions as she sat down at her workstation and booted up her computers. "It was fine. We just had dinner and talked a bit. Nothing much, really."

Extremely interested but unable to bring himself to participate, Ginoza listened to every word while he absently filled out his report.

"What is he like?" Kunizuka asked.

Tsunemori glanced away from her workstation's screens as she answered. "A little boring, to be honest."

"So will you be seeing him again?" Kunizuka pressed, and this time he could feel her glaring pointedly at his back.

"Mm, probably not. I don't have the time."

The knot in Ginoza's chest that had been bothering him all weekend loosened considerably, as he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He wanted to rebuke himself for being so selfish, but at that moment he couldn't feel anything but relief.

"Anyway, I don't think we're that compatible after all," she continued as she caught his eye, giving him a small smile.

* * *

_End of chapter 2_


	3. wavering azure moon

Notes: Quality went missing halfway and I'm still looking for it.

* * *

||3. wavering azure moon

Airless. Airless, airless, airless.

When did the back of the paddy wagon begin to feel like the interior of a sealed up box? It was too much like the cell in the isolation facility, or worse, _a grave—_

No, he was not going there. Thoughts like that were not going to help.

Every little lurch and jolt made him feel like throwing up. Even when the van was moving smoothly, he could feel a persistent rocking and tilting that he knew was only in his head. Splashes of color which did not belong in this lightless prison danced across his vision, tinting Kunizuka's silhouette a disgusting purple-green and washing across the back of his eyelids. He was vaguely aware that she was speaking to him, trying to tell him something, but the engines were extraordinarily loud today and her words were lost in their monotonous droning.

Pain stabbed at his gut and his head, and he gave up all pretense of normalcy, slumping and letting his head rest against the wall. The cool metal cut through the cloud of pain and confusion for a few moments, giving him some much-needed reprieve.

How much further to the Bureau? How long more did he have to hold on in this suffocating distortion of reality?

* * *

Somewhere along the way back, Ginoza fell into a half-conscious daze where his world shrank to encompass only him and his will to not throw up. _Not here, not here_, he chanted to himself until he no longer knew what the words meant, he only needed them as something to latch onto.

Then there was a lurch, he nearly tipped over, and a gust of fresh air invaded his sphere of suffering. Two pairs of hands, hot against his clammy skin, were yanking at him and helping him get up. Dizzy, staggering, blinded by explosions of color in front of his pupils, he was assisted by someone – how odd, he always thought that Kunizuka was taller than that, or was the poison affecting his memories now? – pulling his left arm over their shoulders and supporting him with every step he took.

It was a hasty, careless trip to his quarters. Several times, and he couldn't remember how many, he nearly fell and was steadied just in time by another person keeping pace at his free side. His two helpers conversed in quick, high-pitched voices that he couldn't make out through the ringing in his ears. Tiny fragments of meaningless words like "help" and "way" and "far" made it through, but without context Ginoza's befuddled mind couldn't understand them.

At one point – he had no idea where – his legs gave out on him, and the rest of the trip consisted of him being half-carried and half-dragged by two people who he was now sure were Tsunemori and Kunizuka, while he tried to remember to breathe in gasps and shudders.

Finally, finally, he was dropped on his knees on cold ceramic tiles, and he surrendered, gagging. Warm hands held his hair back as he retched into the toilet, warm hands that felt dizzying and delicious against his cold skin. The same hands reached for his throat, loosening his tie and collar; they rubbed his back soothingly, without a trace of disgust or horror in those calm circles.

His mouth and throat burned, but at least the pain in his head subsided, ebbing away like seawater that followed a breaking wave. In the moment of clarity, his senses began to return, and he heard Kunizuka speak from behind him.

"I'll take the poison sample to Shion."

"Thank you." This came from someplace closer, right next to him in fact. Laced with concern and gratitude, it was a voice that he'd recognize anywhere.

Abruptly, the pain returned twice as vengeful as before and his vision started turning black at the edges. He drew a rattling breath as he tried to stay upright amidst the tilting walls; the sound caught Tsunemori's attention.

"Ginoza-san!"

That was the last thing he heard before the blackness claimed him.

* * *

Yayoi made her way down the corridor briskly, heading back to Ginoza's room to report to Inspector Tsunemori.

Earlier, she had left after assisting Inspector Tsunemori with hauling their unfortunate casualty to his bed and removing his coat and suit jacket. Ginoza's skin was cold and clammy, and he was _heavy_. It took quite some effort to get where they wanted without causing him more injury.

The time was past midnight and Shion was, needless to say, a little pissed at having her beauty sleep interrupted for overtime work. Even when Yayoi specified that Ginoza might be dying a painful death while she petulantly buried her head under the sheets.

Therefore, it took a bit longer than expected to get the results of the analysis. And she most certainly wasn't hurrying because it was an emergency. It was just that she would probably have to cover someone's shift the next morning and so the sooner she got to sleep, the better.

She arrived at Ginoza's bedroom door, which was left ajar. Out of habit, Yayoi knocked anyway, before she pushed it open and let herself in.

Inspector Tsunemori was perched on the edge of the bed. Her wan face, lined with worry, looked up at her intrusion. "Kunizuka-san. What did Karanomori-san say?"

Yayoi stood at attention as she replied. "According to Shion, the poison is non-lethal. Whatever his body doesn't reject will be broken down in a few hours. He'll just be miserable until then." How typical. To begin with, she never really believed that Ginoza's life was in danger, despite his apparent terrible karma. He'd get hurt at every opportunity, but his luck wasn't bad enough to actually get him killed.

Her sentiments weren't shared by everyone, however. The tense line of Inspector Tsunemori's mouth relaxed, breaking into a relieved smile. "That's good to hear."

"In addition, Inspector Shimotsuki just messaged to say that she's arrived home safely. I believe that you should have received a similar message as well, Tsunemori-san." After their little emergency came up, Inspector Tsunemori told the other Inspector to return home directly from the site of the incident. Yayoi, as an Enforcer, wouldn't normally have received a copy of the message, but she did have some sort of mutual understanding with Mika.

"Can you send her a reply? I should do it myself, but…" Inspector Tsunemori's gaze flickered between her wristwatch and Ginoza's troubled, unconscious form.

Yayoi finally noticed the container of warm water on the nightstand and the damp blue cloth in the Inspector's hands.

"Understood. Will that be all?"

"About tomorrow's shift…"

"I'll cover for him. Anything else?"

"No, thank you. Good night, Kunizuka-san."

Taking that as a dismissal, Yayoi gave her a curt nod. "Good night, Tsunemori-san."

She backed out of the room and pulled the door shut, all the way this time. At this time of the night, there were still people going around the hallways, and she didn't think that Inspector Tsunemori would appreciate the noise that the Enforcers from Division 3 were making out there. (Ginoza's opinion didn't count because he was still out cold.)

Anyone with eyes could see that those two were becoming dependent on each other. Tonight wasn't the first time Inspector Tsunemori showed concern towards Ginoza personally, and neither was it the first time he'd suffered from being overprotective of her.

Give them a bit more time, and it'd probably develop into something more. However, it seemed that they had yet to arrive at this conclusion themselves. Perhaps a lot more time than expected would be in order.

It would be nice if they could learn to rely on each other. When Yayoi first came to the Public Safety Bureau, Shion had been the one who helped her get accustomed to life here. Now, she was doing the same for Mika, out of an irrational feeling of responsibility. Inspector Tsunemori, though, was a completely different story. Yayoi could entrust her life to her, but that wasn't quite the same as what Ginoza could potentially be.

_Potentially_. At the rate they were going, Yayoi imagined that none of them were going to win the betting pool (Shion's idea, of course) going around the Criminal Investigation Department.

* * *

It was supposed to have been a straightforward case. A street scanner flagged a clouded Psycho-Pass in Kitazawa, belonging to a fleeing unarmed woman. It wasn't supposed to be anything that the four-man Division 1 couldn't handle.

Things had progressed as expected: the chase around Kitazawa's dirtiest alleys, led by Kunizuka; the eventual cornering of their target at a dilapidated building; the use of the Non-Lethal Paralyzer to subdue her. What they hadn't expected was for the building to be occupied by a group of latent criminals, who obviously panicked at having their home invaded by cops.

While the latent criminals were poorly armed with an array of short-range blade weapons, they did have a sizable stock of homemade chemical explosives filled with a mildly poisonous gas. The result of the tussle was one dead, five paralyzed (including their original target) and an unknown number escaped. Casualties on their own side numbered a grand total of one.

All this slowly came back to Ginoza, filtering through the layers of his consciousness. He hardly noticed that he had been staring at the shadow-swathed brick ceiling of his room for a while, disoriented as he was. He had no idea how long he had been conscious for, but that was probably irrelevant.

His mouth tasted acidic, there was an ache that seemed to go all the way down to his bones, his vision was still blurry at the edges… but apart from that, he felt very much alive. Suffering was proof of living, and he'd gladly deal with the pain again if it meant that he wasn't about to die.

It took him another minute to realize he could feel a warm pressure on his right hand, through the glove. Groaning at the stiffness in his neck, he turned his head to see what it was.

Ginoza wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Tsunemori, with her hand on his. She was sleeping in what he thought was a very uncomfortable position, on the floor with her legs curled up underneath her. Her head was resting on her free arm, just inches away from him on the bed, and in the dim light from the windows he could see that she wore a mildly troubled expression.

How long had she been sleeping there? What time was it to begin with?

As though she heard him, Tsunemori stirred and opened her eyes, blinking as she lifted her head and took in her surroundings. He met her gaze, and she sighed, immediately following up with a smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." His voice sounded hoarse and cracked, and it hurt his throat to speak.

She picked up on that immediately. "I'll get you some water," she offered, getting to her feet and heading to the kitchenette.

He was slightly sorry for the loss of the warmth of her hand on his. Slowly, he pushed himself upright. The digital clock on his nightstand read 05:27, and there was a tub of water right next to it. He looked back down. Where Tsunemori's hand was resting earlier, there was a scrunched-up, damp towel.

Had she actually been taking care of him all this time? He felt a little guilty about causing her to worry and stay almost the whole night, especially since he recalled that she had a shift in the morning.

It was too late to remedy that now. Sighing, Ginoza maneuvered his stiff body out of bed. His aching head protested at the movement, but he ignored it and picked up the tub of water along with the washcloth, taking them with him to the bathroom. He emptied the tub and left it beside the sink (even that small act felt exhausting), and then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

No wonder Tsunemori seemed so concerned. In the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, his skin appeared ashen, his eyes and mouth were puffy at the edges, and there were dark hollows above his cheekbones. The sight made his fingers, both natural and mechanical, clutch tightly at the edge of the sink. It was almost like that night when the paramedics first picked him up, except without the blood that dyed everything in a mad gradient ranging from rust to scarlet to ink, and then later the _drones_— no, he didn't need to go there now.

Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, he splashed some water on his face to clear his mind, and rinsed the sour taste of bile out of his mouth. This wasn't the time to be revisiting unwelcome memories.

"Ginoza-san?"

When he turned around, Tsunemori was standing in the doorway with the promised glass of water. He took it with a murmured 'thank you' and drank it. The water was tepid, but even so it hurt to swallow at first. Regardless, he drained the whole glass in one go; he hadn't realized that he was thirsty until then.

Tsunemori patiently waited for him to be done and took the empty glass from his hands. "I already spoke to Kunizuka-san, she'll cover your shift in the morning. You should take the day off and rest to make sure there aren't any other effects from the poison."

He protested weakly. "Inspector Tsunemori, I'm fine—"

"You're not. Don't argue with me on this," she said fiercely. Then, perhaps seeing how taken aback he was, she softened. "Please. You're in no condition to go out into the field if something happens."

The unmistakable concern and note of desperation in her plea sent a tiny shiver through him. "… Alright," he conceded. He was obliged to obey her directives when it came to work, after all. But even if he wasn't, he doubted he could say no to her. Not when she asked like that.

Mistaking his shiver as one of exhaustion, she tugged at his hand, urging him to get back to bed and rest. He let her lead him back by his prosthetic hand while a million irrelevant questions swam through his head. For example, was she holding his hand firmly or loosely? Was her hand as warm as it was before? Might he possibly squeeze her hand back a little, or would he break her bones if he did, nervous as he was?

Before he could resolve any of them, she was setting the empty glass on the nightstand and tucking him under the covers like a child. "Rest well, Ginoza-san."

He had no idea what possessed him – perhaps it was the dreamlike quality of their entire exchange or the buzzing in his veins or the simple fact that Tsunemori being here now was surreal in itself – but he caught her hand before she left. _Still warm_.

"Are you going home?" It was probably too late for her to go home now. She would have to leave soon after if she was going to make it back on time, but it was also too early for her to show up for her shift.

She bit her lip as she glanced at her watch. "… Would it be alright if I sleep on your couch for now?"

No. No, that was not alright at all. Ginoza struggled to get up without pulling at her arm too much, before realizing that it was much easier to get up if he let go. "If you're going to do that, I'd rather sleep out there."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ginoza-san. You're still not well." Instantly she was by his side, trying to make him lie down again.

"What's ridiculous is letting you sleep on a couch after you spent the last few hours on the floor," he countered, slightly breathless, while he resisted her attempts to push him back down. "I'm fine enough now."

"You're not!" she insisted, but her grip on him loosened out of concern. She bit her lip again, averting her gaze to the plain white sheets. Dropping her voice to barely above a whisper, she said, "But, well… if you're fine enough to sleep on the couch, then you're fine enough to move over, right?"

"Wha—" Ginoza didn't manage to finish before she was nudging him to the side, her face inscrutable in the darkness.

This was not happening.

Tsunemori just… went and lay down on the bed, curling up on her side and pulling her side of the blanket up to her chin. He could feel the steady warmth emanating off her back under the sheets, and it was as intimidating as it was comforting.

Without much of a choice left to him, Ginoza lay on his side with his back facing her, as close to the edge as possible. He could hear his blood thumping in his ears, and he didn't doubt that he was no longer as pale as what the mirror showed him a few minutes prior. Hyperaware of the slight tugs on the blanket that followed the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing, he shut his eyes and tried not to think too much about how Tsunemori was close enough for him to touch – to _hold_ – if he just turned around.

She was quiet for so long that he thought she'd fallen asleep. That was why when he first heard it amidst the sound of his own pulse, he thought he'd imagined it. But no, it was unmistakably her voice with its nuances and subtleties and a sweet vulnerability that was almost never seen in her anymore, saying a quiet 'thank you' to the room, the air, to him.

His own throat was constricted with a combination of poison, sleep and apprehension, but he managed to force out a simple 'no, thank _you_' that he wasn't sure if she heard.

He never entertained the possibility that he could fall asleep, but somehow he did to the lull of someone breathing in time with him and their comforting presence next to him. When he next opened his eyes, it was to streaming sunlight and a full glass of tepid water on his nightstand. Tsunemori was, of course, long gone.

* * *

There wasn't very much for an Enforcer to do on his day off. Days off were given as a necessity for recuperation, to maintain the hunting dogs in good condition. What happened on those days was not a priority to the Ministry of Welfare. Most Enforcers learned to keep themselves occupied with the limited range of activities that could be conducted in the Bureau building.

Then there was Shion, who could be bored during a one-hour lunch break while three separate lab tests were waiting for her attention.

She had a good reason to be strolling around the Enforcers' level this particular afternoon, though. She had an obligation to check up on a certain poisoned Ginoza-kun, just to be sure that he was alive and kicking. After all, she did perform that chemical analysis late at night so there was a chance that she might have overlooked something.

Alright, that was a lie. The truth was that she was mostly bored and only a tiny bit concerned. And she saw Akane on this level earlier in the morning, coming from the direction of said poisoned Enforcer's room. There was absolutely no way she was going to let that pass without at least getting a detail or two. Or maybe ten.

She breezed down the corridor leading to Ginoza's rooms confidently with her medical probe in hand, waving to two of the Enforcers from Division 3 (who looked suspiciously hung over) and stopping to chat with Aoyanagi who she happened to pass by.

When she finally made it to her destination, she gave a courteous knock before immediately trying the doorknob. To her surprise, it wasn't locked, so she let herself in. "So, Ginoza-kun, how are we feeling— oh!"

From the top of the short flight of stairs, she could see Ginoza by the row of enormous arched windows with a watering can in his prosthetic hand. That was nothing out of the ordinary. Since he didn't paint, he replaced the easels by the windows with flowerpots holding assorted plants. Shion thought it suited his (boring) personality very well, and besides, he had quite the talent in keeping them alive.

What was interesting was the blond bob visible next to him. At first glance, that was all she saw. Then she blinked and realized it was attached to a body that didn't quite stand out against the backdrop of dark green leaves because it was dressed in a black suit.

My, she knew Ginoza-kun had always been popular with the ladies despite his lack of interest in relationships in general, but when did he become _this_ popular?

"Did I come at a bad time?" she called out teasingly. Who knew it would be worth coming here after all…

The blond bob (Momota) squeaked, gazed at Shion the way a cornered mouse gazes at a cat, then turned back to Ginoza and bowed. Several times. "N-No, it's nothing! I hope you feel better soon!"

Shion was unabashedly amused as Momota scurried past her. The poor girl's face was terribly red, and at another time Shion might have stopped her just to tease her about it.

The door slammed shut, and Shion turned to her other potential victim. "What did Mai want with you, Ginoza-kun?" she asked pointedly as she sauntered down the stairs.

"Nothing. She just stopped by to ask how I was." Ginoza looked pale and tired, but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear. "Why aren't you at work?"

She pouted in mock offense. "How rude. I _am_ working!" she huffed, waving the probe around for emphasis. "Besides, it's my lunch break!"

He raised an eyebrow, but set the watering can down without any further comment. "What do you need?"

"Just some blood," she said as she activated the probe. Then she grinned. "And maybe a detailed account of what Akane-chan was doing in your room this morning."

The expression on his face was totally worth her lunch break.

* * *

Tsunemori came up to him bearing good news later that week, after one of their shifts.

"I think I've found Dime," she told him, her usually worn eyes triumphant. "He's big and gray and white, right?"

Honestly, a description like that could fit any number of dogs, but it was worth following up on. This was the first time she mentioned anything about Dime since she promised to search for him three weeks ago.

On his next day off, she picked him up at the Bureau's basement and took him to the dog shelter.

The shelter was located in a different neighborhood from his old apartment, and it didn't exactly inspire the hope that the dog she found really was Dime. Besides, there was a good chance that Dime's age had already marked him as unsuitable for adoption.

It was sometime during the long car ride that Tsunemori tentatively asked him what he intended to do if the dog was Dime.

He shrugged, watching the buildings beside the highway flash by. "I haven't decided yet." There were so many things to consider: Dime's age, his health, the no-pets rule in the Bureau… Really, it'd be the best if Dime could live out the rest of his life with a new owner, but if he could, he wanted to at least see him one more time.

"I see," she replied calmly, never taking her eyes off the road for even a second. "You should think about it before we get there."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence for the rest of the journey. Ginoza didn't particularly want to think about it because the probability of it being Dime was so low to begin with, getting his hopes up would most probably be met with disappointment.

It was well into the afternoon when they finally arrived at the facility. Tsunemori must have let the administrators known ahead that she'd be visiting because there was a uniformed employee waiting to receive them at the foyer and take them to the enclosures.

They were led past a corridor of glass doors, and when Ginoza peered into them he could see that there weren't many dogs in each room, there was ample space left for them to run around. It was a relief; it seemed like Dime had been cared for decently in his absence. In some of his vaguest nightmares he saw cramped cages and atrocious lighting, and he was glad to find out that reality far surpassed his expectations.

"This is where we put all the dogs that came in in the last four months," the employee explained as he stopped at the end of the corridor, swiping his card to open it. "If the dog you're looking for isn't here, then I'm afraid he wasn't sent to us."

Although he told himself not to expect too much, he still tensed up when he stepped through the doors and a group of dogs came trotting up to him, sniffing at his clothes and wagging their tails playfully. The one on the right was too small, the one beside it was brown, the one behind just different altogether…

He was distantly aware of Tsunemori kneeling down and petting the dogs while the employee excused himself to attend to the bucket of ratty chew toys in the corner. Absently, he followed her lead, but his eyes never stopped scanning the room, looking for a dog that was big and gray and white.

That one was a glossy black, another was tiny, a third just wasn't Dime… something bumped into his prosthetic hand and he looked down for a moment. A big and gray and white dog was sniffing curiously at his fingers, licking tentatively at them before giving a satisfied bark as though his owner hadn't been missing for three months.

Emotion welled up in him and he put his trembling arms around the husky, who was now sitting on his haunches patiently. Dime was a little scruffier than usual, and maybe he didn't use to smell like that all the time, but the enthusiastic licking at his ear told him that his dog was still healthy and well and missed him. Ginoza ran his fingers through the shaggy fur, scratched behind the small ears, and he didn't care if Dime needed a bath and grooming – his dog was happy to see him, and he was happy to see his dog as well.

When he finally let go of Dime, the dog trotted over to Tsunemori and sniffed all over her as well. Then, as though showing his approval, he gave her cheek a huge lick, to Ginoza's shock.

He couldn't remember if Dime had ever been friendly to anyone he introduced his dog to. Not that he had many friends for him to meet, but he distinctly recalled that Dime wasn't quite as affectionate to Kougami when he brought the dog along to help with a case once.

And now Dime was planting his front paws on Tsunemori's shoulders, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto the mats. She was laughing, a clear and resounding laugh that he couldn't remember ever hearing from her, while Dime continued to attack her face with kisses. "No, stop that!" she shrieked while laughing, trying to push the dog away without using real strength.

No, he wasn't jealous. Not of Tsunemori, and certainly not of his dog. That was absurd.

"So, is that the dog you're looking for?" the employee asked, empty bucket in hand, and Ginoza noticed that the rest of the dogs had been distracted for a while by the chew toys that had been passed around.

"Yes, thank you." Now that the elation had passed, the question of what to do next returned in force. He couldn't take Dime with him, and yet leaving without him was simply not an option either.

"Are you going to take him?" Clearly uncomfortable, the employee shifted his weight from foot to foot. "He's pretty old, so we were going to let him go in a few weeks if no one wanted him."

It was normal, of course. No animal organization could afford to take care of every one of its charges until the end of their lifespans. It just wasn't economical. Even so, the bluntness with which it was presented hit him hard. The employee was making it clear to him: either take his dog away soon or consign him to an early death.

Neither option was viable, but he never really had a choice to begin with. What could he do in a situation like this?

Even though it hurt him to, he opened his mouth to explain that they couldn't take the dog off their hands.

Tsunemori's voice cut him off from behind. "Why not?"

Ginoza turned around to see that she had recovered, holding Dime back with both hands while Dime's tail shook furiously. For a moment, he was confused. Did she not know about the Bureau's stance on pets? "Tsunemori, Enforcers aren't allowed to ha—"

She interrupted him once more. "I know. But there's no rule saying that Inspectors can't have pets."

"Tsunemori!"

Ignoring his outburst, she continued. "Isn't he your only remaining family now? Surely you don't want to leave him here, right?"

He swore he heard her voice waver on 'family', and it derailed his train of thought. "… Even so, I can't possibly ask you to take him in on my behalf! For one, aren't you busy enough with work? For another, you don't know anything about keeping a dog, and Dime is very old." As he regained his wits, his words came faster and faster, and with each reason he listed he was more convinced that Tsunemori shouldn't have to take on the additional responsibility of caring for _his_ dog.

She gazed at him earnestly as she scratched under Dime's jaw. "So teach me," she said calmly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

There was nothing he could say to that, no protest he could raise. Not when her eyes were bright and she looked happier than she had been in months, over a dog that was big and gray and white.

* * *

_End of chapter 3_


	4. the color of loneliness

Notes: Quality is still AWOL and I'm joining it.

* * *

||4. the color of loneliness

The July heat made all of them sluggish, but not equally so.

For example, the heat affected Kunizuka much less than it did Ginoza, allowing her to dart around him with ease and toss him on the training mat, earning her Inspector Shimotsuki's look of awe.

This was not to say that the weather didn't grant him some dubious advantages. Now that they had progressed into summer, his prosthetic was always a few degrees warmer than the rest of him, and Kunizuka's surprise at encountering the unexpected temperature opened a nice window of opportunity for him to return the favor.

The downside to it was a persistent discomfort in his left shoulder where the metal met his skin. Although the prosthetic was designed with a temperature sensor and regulator, outside of its narrow working range, it tended to be off by a few degrees and that was enough for him to feel it. He was getting more used to thinking of the prosthetic as a natural extension of himself, but at times like that he was distinctly reminded of how it was _not_.

Dime didn't enjoy the season either. As summer wore on, long walks in the nearest park were replaced by lazy afternoons at Tsunemori's apartment, lazy afternoons that Tsunemori was kind enough to invite him to despite the obvious inconvenience in ferrying him from the Bureau and back. He felt uncomfortable about bothering her like this, but she hadn't mentioned it anything about it, and he wasn't selfless enough to willingly forego his afternoons with Dime.

And with her as well. He wasn't willing to give up the afternoons with her, even if sometimes all they did was sit around and watch Dime loll around on her floor, with their hands wrapped around mugs of iced tea and a companionable silence between them. After an indeterminate amount of time she would catch his gaze with a tiny smile and ask if he wanted more tea, and the cycle would repeat. On other days, she would ask him about how she should react to Dime's latest display of affection, and take detailed notes in a yellow lined notebook – Ginoza had asked about it at first, why pen and paper in an age where everything was digitized. Her reply was that she liked it better that way.

Honestly, so did he. Watching her write was a spectacle in itself. Her brow furrowed when she was printing her words in controlled strokes that produced neat even characters; she had a tendency to read out what she was writing when she was in a hurry to take down whatever he was saying, the pen flying across the lines and leaving a flowing script that took him several weeks to learn to read naturally.

There were countless other things he enjoyed about their afternoons together: the brush of her fingers against his when she handed him his mug of iced tea, the way their conversations sometimes led from a single dog to his days at high school with Kougami (which were mostly spent trying to avoid Kougami's latest shenanigans), lively debates about the merits of their individual hobbies that he had yet to win (one day he'd make her see the benefits of gardening), the way she brightened and looked ever so pleased whenever he was struck speechless (which became more often as she slowly, excruciatingly lowered her guard for longer periods at a time)…

He also learned the hard way that the only topic which could make Tsunemori clam up was the Sibyl System. The two times he'd inadvertently brought it up, she gave him the cold shoulder for days after, so he eventually figured out that she didn't like to talk about it. Which was perfectly fine with him. All of them had things they rather not talk about, and he wasn't going to pry at this point where a careless approach could send him back to square one.

It had come to the point that he was unusually restless on his days off that didn't coincide with hers. Karanomori had pointed that out and promptly, gleefully proceeded to diagnose him with a 'fatal, debilitating disease with only one remote cure that is as difficult to obtain as a maiden's capricious heart'. (It was lovesickness. Ginoza never thought of himself as a particularly vicious person, but on that day he was sorely tempted to use his watering can on her. Being reminded of a particular audio recording she was in possession of helped him immensely in remaining civil.)

Despite her terrible choice of words, he had to admit that Karanomori had a point. What had started out as simple inspiration from before, a minor infatuation that could have been easily snuffed out, had by now turned into a complex web of trust and shared experiences and dependency. And beyond that, a tiny thrill that ran through him every time Tsunemori looked over or their fingers carelessly brushed past each other as she handed him his mug. It was a confusing, complicated mass of emotions that was most conveniently labeled as 'love'.

At the same time, the surer he was of his feelings, the less sure he was of Tsunemori reciprocating them. Though he was fairly certain that she at least enjoyed his company, it was unreasonable of him to expect that he meant as much to her as she did to him. He was more than seven years her senior and it was more likely she only saw him as someone trustworthy enough to depend on.

Even if she did return his sentiments, there was the fact that he was a latent criminal and there simply wasn't any future for them.

* * *

The pneumatic hiss of the sliding doors broke the mini staring contest that had erupted between him and Kunizuka as they circled each other warily. On instinct, they both glanced over at the entrance to the training room. Tsunemori walked in through the doors, hugging a file to her and looking thoroughly pleased. The sight of her made his lips involuntarily quirk up, and he made as if to go over before he remembered that he was still engaged in a sparring match.

Kunizuka recovered way before he did, and by the time he thought to look back, her hands were locking his elbow and shoulder joints. He barely even had time to process that before she threw him over her shoulder, and while he was lay winded on the mat, she casually brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Lame."

From the corner, he heard a stifled chuckle followed shortly by full-blown laughter. Ginoza mentally cursed Karanomori for sharing details of his life with anyone who cared to stop by her lab for a chat. Inspector Shimotsuki had been shooting him meaningful looks behind Tsunemori's back and half the time he saw her, she was engaged in a private conversation with Kunizuka, a conversation that came to a pause as they caught him staring at them and stared back without blinking. He was beginning to suspect that they did this just to unnerve him. And here he'd actually thought that Shimotsuki Mika was a kind girl.

Or rather, he supposed she was until Kunizuka and Karanomori got to her. Mostly Karanomori, in fact.

A shadow over him blotted out the harsh orange light from above. "Are you alright, Ginoza-san?" The shadow had a nice voice, albeit a little concerned, and a familiar silhouette. Ginoza had never been more embarrassed than he was now.

He mumbled a generic reassurance that he was and sat up, moving his arm to make sure that it was still intact and that it hadn't been dislocated by that exceptionally violent throw. Tsunemori shifted her grip on her file and offered him a hand. He let her help him up, to a fresh round of muffled giggles from Inspector Shimotsuki's corner.

Ginoza very desperately hoped that Tsunemori would attribute the flush of his face to the summer heat and exertion from sparring.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Kunizuka throw a towel at him, followed quickly by a bottle of water. He caught the towel with no trouble, but fumbled with the bottle. As he precariously secured it, he swore she was mouthing 'lame' at him behind Tsunemori's back.

Meanwhile, Inspector Shimotsuki left her corner and joined them by the lockers. "What's the good news?"

Right, Tsunemori looked pleased with something when she walked in earlier. She held up the file she was hugging and said, "We might be getting a new Enforcer soon. If everything goes well."

"About time," Kunizuka interjected. Ginoza nodded in agreement. It had been a long three months, with all the additional shifts. Inspector Aoyanagi managed to fill the vacancy in her division three weeks ago, thereby eliminating the need for any of them to take on an additional shift with Division 2, but her Enforcers were still very frequent guests at Division 1. Unlike Tsunemori, Inspector Aoyanagi was very vocal with her opinion on the new candidate restrictions and had no qualms about discussing them with whoever happened to be present, be they Inspector, Enforcer or Inspector-turned-Enforcer.

"What are they like?" asked Inspector Shimotsuki curiously. If there was one thing that the rest of the division learned about her, it was that she was truly interested in doing her job well. On one of Karanomori's quieter days, she made a comment on Mika-chan reminding her of the old Akane-chan and personally, Ginoza agreed.

Tsunemori smiled sheepishly. "I haven't actually met them yet." She glanced at her watch and then at everyone in turn. "We'll discuss this later during the meeting. Speaking of which, it starts in half an hour so you should hurry." The last part was directed at Kunizuka and him.

They left the training room and scattered along their separate ways: the two Inspectors towards the office and the two Enforcers to their rooms.

* * *

The number of missing people reported peaked in the first week of May, and had remained at consistently one or two per week following that. The disappearances were, without exception, located in the Setagaya ward and concentrated in the district of Kitazawa.

Investigation into each of the missing people uncovered nothing suspicious. Their homes were untouched, there were no signs of violence or conflict. Interviewing the people around them yielded nothing useful either. Only a minority had been on poor terms with someone around them, and it wasn't a solid trend to follow up on. There had been nothing unusual about their communication records either, and accessing their last recorded Hue did not turn up any possible leads. It was as though they disappeared into the thin air, off the streets.

Presently, the most probable scenario was homicide, despite the lack of bodies found. While the victims seemed to be chosen entirely at random, that was hardly the case even in the most irrational of criminals. Division 1 was operating under the assumption that there was a common link between all the victims, and that finding the link would lead them to the culprit. That was all they had to go on.

However, without any evidence, the Public Safety Bureau couldn't risk increasing the area stress level by issuing warnings and safety guides. The number of security drones on patrol in Kitazawa had been increased, but beyond that there was no further action. Shimotsuki had expressed some frustration that they couldn't do more to keep the residents safe, but she had been the only one to.

Then again, she was also the only one who hadn't been around for that particular period from last November to February. With Kougami's escape from Japan still weighing on their minds, it wasn't that far-fetched for them to think that some citizens could be considering the same in the aftermath of the riots that showed the world that Sibyl wasn't an infallible god.

* * *

On a hot Tuesday afternoon, Karanomori stopped by Division 1's office for absolutely no reason other than to chat with Ginoza's coworkers.

Tsunemori had been called to a meeting with the Chief and the senior Inspectors from the other divisions, to give their individual reports. Just a year before, Ginoza had been the one to be incarcerated behind heavy metal doors for several hours, explaining various doings (and misdoings) of Division 1 to a chief who looked more interested in solving her puzzle than actually listening.

He most certainly did not miss that part of being an Inspector. Dealing with Kasei Joushuu was confusing, exhausting, and more often than not ended with extra work. In essence, she only heard what she wanted to hear and making what she wanted to hear into reality was the complicated part of answering to her. He prayed that Tsunemori had it better now, but it felt like a distant, feeble hope.

From the other side of the room, Karanomori lazily fanned herself with her hand as she reclined in a chair. "Ginoza-kuuuuun, it's hot. I want aloe vera juice…"

"Get it yourself. You're not even working."

"But Ginoza-kuuun, neither are you…"

That was true. Ginoza was watering the tiny potted plants around his terminal for the second time that afternoon, his reason being that the heat would dry them out more than usual. However, even if he was taking a break by doing so, that wasn't anything compared to the analyst who had escaped her lab entirely.

He was about to point that out when Kunizuka cut in coolly, without bothering to look up from her nails. "Orange juice for me. The one from the white vending machine."

Since when did he agree to get juice for Karanomori anyway? He opened his mouth to protest—

"Oh, is Ginoza-san getting drinks? Can I have green tea? Thank you so much."

—and shut it when he realized that he didn't have a choice to begin with.

Sighing audibly, he got to his feet and made his way from the office to the lounge with his hands in his pockets. This wasn't an unusual occurrence, especially where Karanomori was involved; by now his protests were automatic, voiced out of habit than any actual disagreement with their methods.

He went for the juice first, pushing the appropriate buttons on the white vending machine and adding a can of cold coffee for himself. He saved Inspector Shimotsuki's green tea for last – really, hot tea? In this weather? He supposed it was something she picked up in the academy she came from, the one where they taught their students to be proper ladies as directed by customs of an earlier time. It was utterly incomprehensible to him, but who was he to question her preferences?

As he reached for the button that would dispense the tea, Ginoza paused to focus on the shadow that had been flickering at the periphery of his vision for a while. Deciding that it would be polite to address them first, lest the tea cool while he was caught up with pleasantries afterwards, he straightened up and turned away from the vending machine.

"… Good afternoon, Momota. What a coincidence."

* * *

In Akane's opinion, the meeting was a complete waste of time. Division 1 hadn't had any leads on the missing people case, and so couldn't report anything. Request for backup from the other divisions to investigate the possibility of those people fleeing the country had been met with a flat refusal until sufficient evidence had been presented. Of course, if evidence had been so easy to obtain, they would have cracked down on the masterminds behind the whole operation already.

She was frustrated and more than a little disillusioned, but that wasn't new for her. Ever since she had learned the true nature of the Sibyl System, that had been her perpetual state of being. The System was a necessary evil, she had accepted it despite all the cracks and flaws that showed in its running (cracks which seemed especially large and ugly at times like this), but that didn't mean she had to be happy about protecting it.

Lately she felt like she was getting better at forgetting about the existence of the System for hours at a time, precious short hours where she didn't have to swallow the secret of the system behind sealed lips and diplomatic smiles. They didn't last, never did, but for days after she could hold the Dominator in her hands and remember that she was protecting something worth far more than the System.

While waiting for the elevator, Akane sighed. The sound caught Aoyanagi's attention and she turned to Akane with a knowing smile.

"Tough one, isn't it?"

The case wasn't quite at the forefront of her mind when she sighed, but she nodded nonetheless to answer the question.

"Well, good luck. I'm sure you'll manage somehow." Aoyanagi clapped the other Inspector's shoulder reassuringly as they stepped into the elevator together. She hit the button for the division office level and leaned back against the dull beige wall, crossing her arms in front of her. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Thanks." Akane forced a smile onto her lips to return the one that Aoyanagi was giving her. She really did like the older woman and her comparatively liberal views, but that was all the more reason not to share her worries. Besides, Aoyanagi had her own division and concomitant issues: breaking in the new Enforcer, scheduling her subordinates' shifts such that none of them wore themselves out covering vacancies in Akane's own division, a particularly tricky case involving multiple break-ins in Shinjuku that didn't trigger any security drones…

A muted ding signaled that the elevator had arrived at its destination, and Aoyanagi waved her farewell as she went on ahead to Division 2's office. Once she was out of earshot, Akane sighed again. Talking to Aoyanagi just reminded her of everything that she should be doing and wasn't.

First things first. If her memory served her, the next time Ginoza's and her days off coincided would be this coming Friday. She should probably check with him if he wanted to see Dime then. His answer never changed, though, and she wondered if he was saying yes out of obligation to his dog – it would be just like him.

She shook her head to clear those thoughts, slightly amused at what she was even thinking. Ginoza was always so caring towards Dime, and there was nary a trace of boredom in him whenever he came over. Why was she even worrying about something like this? Perhaps the meeting drained her more than she expected.

Smiling to herself, she walked down the familiar route to Division 1's office.

Karanomori was the first one to greet her when she stepped through the sliding doors. "Oh? Welcome back, Akane-chan!"

Her voice seemingly broke into Shimotsuki's concentration – or perhaps stupor, since she seemed positively embarrassed when she looked up. "Welcome back. How was the meeting?"

"Nothing's changed. We're still on our own," Akane explained. It was a brief but painfully accurate summary of the last four hours. She glanced around the room as she spoke, noting that there were only three other people in the room including Karanomori. "Where did Ginoza-san go?"

"He volunteered to get drinks for us. If you hurry, Akane-chan, you might be able to get one too." The smug, knowing grin looked perfectly at ease on Karanomori even if Akane couldn't quite fathom the reason for it.

"I see." A cold drink didn't sound like a bad idea. It was hot out, and she did just spend the last four hours trying – and failing – to talk the Chief into sinking more resources into their investigation. "Thank you, Karanomori-san."

Even though she had barely been in the office for two minutes, she turned around and headed out again, just missing Karanomori's playful goodbye wave.

Ginoza would probably need some help carrying all the drinks back anyway, she reasoned. And she could ask him about Friday as well, away from three pairs of unnecessarily keen ears in the office. Unconsciously, she picked up her pace along the dull gray corridor to the lounge.

"—ease go out with me!"

Akane stopped short in her tracks. The voice was faint, but every word carried clearly. She couldn't quite place who it belonged to, it wasn't someone she was terribly familiar with but at the same time she knew she most definitely was acquainted with its owner, had met her before in this very building.

This situation seemed odd. It had come from the direction of the lounge up ahead… But she didn't see Ginoza on the way here, could she possibly have missed him? There was a charged silence in which she waited to hear a response to the confession. None was forthcoming, and so she inched forward towards the bend – or perhaps there was already an answer, but she couldn't hear it over the sound of her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears?

Cautiously, reluctantly, trailing her hand over the cool wall, she peered out over the corner into the main lounge. It was Momota from Division 2 with Ginoza – that was definitely Ginoza, even if she could only see his silhouette in the brilliant sunlight streaming through the windows behind him, even when his long bangs were covering his face more than usual – wasn't it? Momota Mai, Enforcer of Division 2, worked at the CID for years, cute and easygoing, Enforcer, likeable to her coworkers, Enforcer, Enforcer, _Enforcer_—

Akane hadn't realized that she was holding her breath until she felt something bitter rising in her throat. With that came the realization that she was eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a private conversation, a conversation that was _none of her business_, and she resolutely pushed off the wall, mechanically taking step after quick step to the office.

It was rude to listen in like that. No matter the answer, surely neither of them would have wanted anyone to know of it without their consent. It was better that she let them be. And alright, maybe she didn't want to know either, not at all. Distantly, she recalled that she was supposed to get herself a drink. She would have to find some way to explain why she was returning empty-handed.

She slowed as she neared the office to wipe her face blank of any betraying cues and swallow the lump of bitterness in her throat. It hurt as it went down, but she paid it no mind. Like with keeping up a brave front, it was already somewhat second nature to her. She could do it, even if she hadn't needed to in a while. All she had to do was to walk in normally, it wasn't that difficult.

"Oh, back already?" Karanomori perked up at her entry, and then faltered. "Why isn't Ginoza-kun with you?"

Akane forced her lips to curve upwards, as naturally as she could manage. "I don't think I'm that thirsty after all," she lied as she returned to her workstation and called up the first few documents she could find onto the screens.

The analyst's look of disbelief shook her confidence for a second, and she had to bite her tongue to remind herself not to add anything else. They would sound too defensive, too much like excuses, and that wouldn't help at all.

Instead, she pretended to busy herself with typing up a report that wasn't due until next week, ignoring the inquiring looks cast in her direction until they faded. Single-mindedly, she attacked her report – if she focused on it enough, she could block out all external stimuli, including the weather, the concerned aura around Shimotsuki, and the sound of the door sliding open once more. She could ignore the sound of Ginoza going around the narrow office, distributing drinks, giving long-suffering replies to Karanomori, hovering over her workstation expectantly…

… There was no going around it. Akane steeled herself and looked up, careful not to let her control over her features waver. "Is there something you need, Ginoza-san?"

She saw him flinch and guessed that it was most likely because she had never reacted to his presence in such a way before. It wasn't important to her just then.

"About Friday…" She scrutinized his face carefully. He didn't seem the least bit perturbed at being confessed to at the lounge earlier, and a part of her wanted to know what his eventual answer was. Dully, she quashed her curiosity. If she couldn't read it off his expression, then maybe she wasn't meant to know.

"Sorry, I'm visiting the rehabilitation center on Friday," Akane replied indifferently, turning back to her workstation screens. It was the first thing that occurred to her, and either way, it was better to make the trip down sooner than later. "I want to get it out of the way as soon as possible, the additional shifts have gone on for long enough as it is."

She steadfastly refrained from looking at him again. _It... wasn't necessary_.

"On your day off?" Ginoza sounded bewildered, with a pinch of uncertainty. She didn't need to look to picture the expression he was wearing: brows knitted together disapprovingly, eyes narrowed, a frown already tugging at the corner of his lips. Sometimes she wished he would stop treating her like a child that had to be protected and sheltered. She wasn't like one of his delicate orchids that had to have a precise balance of sunlight and shade or wither in a matter of hours. Sure, he had seven more years of experience, but she thought that everything they'd been through together would have proved that she didn't need him to fuss over her.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his concern; she did. It just felt frustrating at times and even more so when she couldn't put her finger on why it frustrated her.

She did not deign to reply. The silence persisted and stretched thin.

"W-Well, thank you for all your hard work, then." He sounded no less confused, but at least he wasn't insisting that she stay away from work on her day off. Akane took a bit of hollow satisfaction in that, but that was all it was. Hollow, empty, like a puff of cigarette smoke that would soon dissipate and yet leave her throat and nose and eyes burning.

This time, she nodded to acknowledge him before throwing herself back into her report with fervor. Even so, it was impossible to not be aware of the way Ginoza shuffled back to his workstation, his hands thrust deep in his pockets and the quiet scuff of his shoes against the concrete.

Akane didn't know what she was trying to accomplish. The bitter taste wouldn't leave her mouth and her head hurt. It was oddly nostalgic in that this wasn't the first time she felt like this and wouldn't be the last – only now there was an added sense of emptiness, a void that was cold even on this blazing summer day.

* * *

_End of chapter 4_


	5. if the needle of time could stop

Notes: I was in the UK without my laptop. It was fun. There's going to be a season two, makes me wonder why I'm still writing this.

* * *

||5. if the needle of time could stop

There was a speck of dust on the inside of the windshield, visible only when the sunlight hit the tempered glass at an angle. There was a scratch lining the faux leather grip of the steering wheel, a thin white perforated line just above where her index finger rested. The hologram above the dashboard that displayed the recommended news was lagging and flickering, and frankly Akane didn't mind at all, it gave her an excuse to focus on something and not try to make awkward conversation with the Enforcer in the car with her.

And awkward it had been, ever since she blew him off last week. She regretted it a bit now, when just being in the same room heightened her senses unnecessarily and holding a simple conversation brought on endless anxiety. It hadn't even been his fault or even within his control that Momota confessed to him, and she had, rather impulsively, put a seemingly irreparable dent in their ability to work together. It seemed to be such an unfair trade if she thought about it rationally.

Then she'd remember that she still didn't know what his answer was, and the irritation would flare up again, fueling her resolve to avoid him as much as possible.

All this time, she'd assumed that they had some sort of understanding between them. At least, he behaved as though he understood how she felt and was willing to accommodate her, even if most of the time nothing was happening. Maybe it was only in her head, but she thought that they were making progress, slowly.

… That was exactly the same mistake she made with Kougami Shinya, and look where that left them.

Akane snuck a glance to her left, where Ginoza's posture spelled 'uncomfortable': unnaturally interested in the passing city scenery outside, his gloved prosthetic fingers clutching the armrest a tad more stiffly than usual and a slight frown that he was probably unaware that he was wearing. Her own lips threatened to pull into a frown – if he was so uncomfortable with being around her, why did he volunteer to come along in the first place?! He should have just stayed back and enjoyed his afternoon off with his plants! Or with Momota…

As though he felt her staring, his own eyes flickered towards her. She lost the battle to keep the frown off her face as she met his gaze with a glare, silently challenging him to say anything about it. After a second, he glanced away, back out of the window, leaving Akane with zero satisfaction and a fresh load of bitterness.

Alright, maybe it was too harsh of her to pigeonhole him like that. He didn't ask for Momota to like him, and she did overhear Karanomori pointedly telling Shimotsuki that 'our poor Ginoza-kun still doesn't have a girlfriend' yesterday. If Ginoza had accepted, Karanomori wouldn't be saying that, right? She was always the first to know about anything in the bureau.

Really, what was eating at her the most was how Ginoza seemed so nonchalant about it when he came back to the office. He didn't even say anything about it, didn't even see fit to tell her about it. Although she didn't have any jurisdiction in his personal life, she still wanted to know. It was a selfish, irrational feeling that left her annoyed at herself as much as she was annoyed at him.

And acting on that feeling made her feel guilty when Dime didn't come running to greet her as usual that day, when she returned home. She found him sleeping in the shadiest corner of her apartment, by her bed. It might only be her imagination acting up, but it was worrying when the same thing happened a few days in a row. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong – yet she couldn't be sure and couldn't bring herself to ask Ginoza based on a hunch.

Maybe the husky knew that his master wasn't going to visit and was giving her the cold shoulder for it. It wouldn't be that far-fetched to think that.

A week had gone by, and Ginoza still hadn't said anything to her that wasn't related to work.

… What was she expecting from him anyway? An apology? An explanation? What did she want from him?

If Akane was being reasonable, she was annoyed at herself more than at him, for assuming that it was a given that he would be there for her, whenever she felt secure and ready to trust someone beyond professional boundaries again. And perhaps she already did, implicitly, before she was aware of it herself. It was just a shock to remember that he didn't know about her perspective for all that he acted like he did, because she never told him.

And, if she was being honest with herself, what she wanted to hear from him was simply a confirmation that he felt the same way about her.

* * *

The glare that Tsunemori shot him was terrifying enough to make him back down without a second thought, breaking eye contact immediately and returning to a relatively safer field of vision where silver support beams lined gray concrete.

Ginoza had volunteered to accompany her out to Kitazawa in an attempt to set things straight between them, but her frosty demeanor wasn't assisting in any way. To say that this was entirely his idea would be a fallacy; Karanomori had issued an ultimatum for him to 'do something or have _this_ broadcasted in the cafeteria during lunch hour' and she wasn't amenable to negotiation. In addition, he wasn't blind enough to imagine that this would resolve itself without some input from him, so he agreed.

What he failed to foresee was that Tsunemori would remain as displeased as she had been the week before. Karanomori did warn him, with uncharacteristic gravity, that it would take nothing short of an unrivaled display of tact to handle the situation neatly. She then proceeded to declare that he had none, smile gleefully, clap her hands together and said that she had confidence that he'd manage somehow.

All in all, that was one of the least inspiring talks he had ever heard, and he had heard many cringe-worthy ones from Kougami from their days as Inspectors together.

And as though that wasn't sufficient, he was currently running on two cups of coffee, courtesy of the dream he had last night. It wasn't a nightmare, not really. Those had stopped being regular occurrences now that he was largely too tired and too content to dream.

This time it was a dream of Kougami walking home with him after school, when his chatter was not yet raspy from cigarette smoke or somber from reality. Ginoza had no idea why they were walking in the same direction when, in his memory, they usually parted a short distance from the school gate. It didn't make sense, and he didn't think to question it despite the tiny inkling that something wasn't right. That was just how it was, temporarily.

The dream turned even stranger when they arrived, not at the block of cramped apartments he stayed in for most of his childhood, but the larger one that he had the vaguest memories of living in with his parents, where the doorknobs were always at the level of his head and the walls were covered with watercolor on canvas. He began to distantly dread what came next, when the unusually vast door twice his height swung open of its own accord to reveal large, callused hands and a familiar visage wrinkled by smiles. At this point, he forced himself to wake up to the shadowed brick ceiling of his room.

Though his body remained relaxed and unfazed by the vision shown to the mind, there was no way Ginoza could fall asleep again after seeing that. Even if he could stop himself from lingering on what it possibly meant, the accompanying nostalgia and regret brewed a cordial of wakefulness that sat heavily in his chest, keeping him from returning to sleep.

Presently, the caffeine rush was wearing off as he let his eyes glaze over the slate-colored buildings. It was warm in the car and his mind felt fuzzy, yet he was sure if he fell asleep now it was going to be another strike against him in the record that the women in his division were holding.

… Maybe he should say something to Tsunemori. Anything would be better than this tension.

Or not.

It felt the same in a twisted, twisted way: the same feeling of confusion and blankness and above all anxiety pervaded the atmosphere when he realized what exactly was going on.

* * *

At that time, his reaction had been something akin to bewilderment. After all, Enforcers couldn't leave the building without an accompanying Inspector, and he most certainly was not in any position to go anywhere with another Enforcer.

Naturally, that hadn't been what Momota was literally proposing when she asked him to go out with her. Answering her diplomatically then became a far more complex issue. It couldn't have been easy for her to come out and say it to him directly – he was in a similar position, he knew it wasn't. There was the gnawing anxiety to contend with, and beyond that, the fear that putting it out there in words was crossing a line from which there could be no return. It was a risky gamble, one that he had chosen not to stake their easy companionship upon.

Despite that, it didn't mean that he was going to respond favorably out of sympathy.

"I'm very flattered, but I'm afraid that I cannot accept your proposition," he said finally, trying to keep his polite veneer from collapsing into an expression of distress. That would not help his predicament, not at all.

Momota knew no such restraint. Disappointment bordering on devastation plastered itself all over her pretty features. "I—" Her voice thinned, and she had to swallow before trying again. "I see."

Ginoza did vaguely wonder if she had been keeping it in for a long time, and only put it to him now that they were both Enforcers, fellow inmates in the same prison. But she didn't press him for his reasons, so neither could he ask about hers. He wished she did, it made him feel heartless and unsympathetic and awful that he couldn't explain _why._ He couldn't elaborate on how he was a hound already devoted to the owner holding his leash and it wouldn't be fair to someone else to always have to be second best, even if the owner wasn't necessarily as committed to her dog. As it was, it sounded like he was rejecting her simply because he felt like it – which in hindsight wasn't actually worse than if he had tried to explain.

It was slightly awkward to bring an end to their exchange and part ways following that, but that was a minor detail to him. He w1ouldn't call it a revelation, but now that he had been on the rejecting end, he thought it would be hypocritical for him to avoid confessing because he feared rejection. Recalling that his next day off was only a few days away, he had intended to communicate his sentiments to Tsunemori then, and regardless of her response… he would have done all that he should and been honest with her. And with himself.

Unfortunately, things didn't exactly go according to plan and now he was saddled with the burden of explaining something that he wasn't exactly sure was even his fault.

* * *

The car came to a smooth stop in a vacant parking lot, without any direction from its driver. Tsunemori had yet to utter a word about what she was planning to investigate in Kitazawa, and much as he felt awkward about speaking first, practical concerns dictated that he should if she wouldn't.

"Inspector Tsunemori, what were you planning to do here?"

Tsunemori froze in the midst of unbuckling her seat belt, and he thought he saw her head twitch almost imperceptibly – out of annoyance? – at his choice of words. "We're going to ask if anyone in the neighborhood has seen anything suspicious lately. Almost 25 people have gone missing without a trace and those connected to them have no clue about it, so we're going to have to widen our scope of investigation," she answered carefully, though a bit too quickly to be normal.

In his honest opinion, it sounded completely pointless. No one who knew anything in a disreputable area like this was going to be generous enough to share. All the same, he nodded his assent and complied, getting out of the car and preparing to activate the Comissa-chan hologram. Outside of the controlled internal environment of the car, the summer heat hit him all at once – thick and smothering with no relief in sight.

It was unfortunate, Ginoza mused as he tried not to yawn, that the hologram wouldn't be able to at least shade him from the blazing sun.

While he was contemplating the weather and Comissa-chan, Tsunemori got out from the other side of the car. He heard the muted slam of the door, then the scrape of her pumps against the asphalt gradually becoming distant. She was heading towards the tree-lined walkway that would take them into the residential district, built long before Sibyl and only sporadically upgraded.

He followed distractedly. On a weekday afternoon, most of the residents of Kitazawa were either at work or taking refuge from the sun. The public car park was deserted with the exception of the two of them, not an unusual occurrence but eerie when he thought about the four people who had disappeared in this neighborhood.

Four people who, interestingly enough, all lived alone, without a partner, without their parents, without children. Without any immediate family. Four people who came from varying social strata, holding a range of jobs and statuses, and yet were all ranked around the middle tier in their lines of work, unable to progress further. Four people who logically had reasons to be dissatisfied, and none to keep them from taking action. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that they disappeared out of their own free will instead of being abducted.

And Tsunemori probably arrived at the same conclusion, prompting her to come all the way out to fish around for leads.

"Ginoza-san?"

Jolted out of his reverie, Ginoza paused, then realized that Tsunemori had stopped earlier at the mouth of the concrete path and turned to face her. A stray breeze, hot and unwelcome, ruffled her hair as she stood just out of the reach of the shady foliage. In the sunshine, she looked paler than usual, almost glowing.

It was the first time in a week that she had called his name without the steely edge in her voice, and one of the rare times where he heard a touch of caution and hesitation when she spoke to him. It was unexpected, and when combined with the lack of sleep, it made him slow to realize she was waiting for a response and even slower to come up with an appropriate one. After a few seconds of silence, he made a non-committal sound that invited her to continue.

Tsunemori bit the corner of her lower lip. The parched skin crinkled and softened around the edge of her teeth. "Dime seems… rather unwell these few days…"

Ah, was that what it was about? He couldn't be sure, since the last time he saw Dime, the husky looked as per normal, albeit a bit listless. It was probably still due to the weather, since it became significantly hotter and drier over the last week.

"It's probably just the weather," he assured her, though it was as much a question as an answer. "Dime doesn't cope with heat very well…"

He trailed off as Tsunemori joined him in the shade of the trees. Her small steps were steady and rhythmic, pattering on the rough white slabs until she was too close for comfort, forcing him to tilt his head to look into her large brown eyes. Serious, focused as always… but was that pleading he saw seeping through their resilient front?

He should move away, step back and maintain that arm's length space between them, but it felt wrong to insist on decorum now that she was close enough for him to notice that the corner of her lip was faintly moist where she bit it earlier.

"Is that… so…" she asked haltingly, her eyes never leaving his. Curious, almost entranced, Ginoza found it difficult to formulate an answer.

"I don't really like it either, Ginoza-san…" she continued, her voice breathy. His attention was drawn to her fluttering eyelashes, before it was diverted to a firm tug on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer to her.

Tsunemori's lips were distractingly soft and warm, even as he met them clumsily. The metallic tang of rust and salt filled his mouth as his teeth broke the surface of his own lip, but that was something he was only distantly aware of, along with the tension at the back of his neck and the small hands – trembling ever so slightly – curled just below his collarbone. What occupied the larger part of his mind was the tense curve of her mouth on his, the quiver that ran through her slender form, the sudden lightness in his chest as everything came together.

She released him, and her cheeks were no longer pale – they were flushed bright red, as she glanced at her hands and awkwardly let them fall to her side.

Ginoza could still feel those soft pink lips on his, and sorting through his thoughts was a feat he was incapable of at the moment. There were too many things he should say and even more that he wanted to, and yet all that seemed irrelevant now…

"Inspector, you're too short." The minute the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Her eyes widened, first in shock then in what seemed like offense. This didn't bode well for him, did it? To begin with, he wasn't making any sense. She kissed him and his reaction was to insult her height—

"You're just too tall," she huffed, pouting and staring at her feet.

A quiet chuckle escaped him. The fact that she took it so well was perhaps further proof that Sibyl's judgment be damned, Tsunemori was the only one he wanted and the only one he would ever want. Or perhaps he was only grasping at straws to justify his blatant disregard of the unspoken rules set in place. Whatever it was, he didn't care; the line between Inspector and Enforcer, between healthy citizen and latent criminal… Sibyl's judgment be damned, indeed.

"Sorry about that." Bringing his hands up from where they had been frozen for the last few minutes, he took hold of her shoulders. She glanced up and met his gaze, gentle and oddly content. "May I?"

She nodded, and he closed in.

Their second kiss in the shade was slower, sweeter and no less thrilling. Tsunemori tasted like the first spring breeze after a bitter winter, like the calmest harbor in the storm. She was his immovable respite in a reality that was determined to shake him off, one that he loved and never wanted to leave.

They broke apart, she smiled at him, and all was right in the world.

* * *

Remaining purely professional had never even been something he had to think about before. When did it become such a challenge?

Tsunemori was walking by his side – his right side, the side that was still flesh and blood and nerves under skin, the side that could still _feel_ – and close enough that her fingers brushed against his with every step she took. The temptation to grab hold of them and twine his fingers around hers was only barely kept in check, burning under the tensely controlled surface. Did she absolutely have to walk on his right?

As though she read his mind, she shot him a shy smile, her fingers slyly brushing the back of his hand once again. Their warmth diffused through the glove and lingered on his skin.

Enough was enough. Ginoza teasingly caught her hand as it swept past his, giving it a light squeeze before letting it slip out of his grasp. She wasn't expecting that, and her footsteps faltered for a second as she processed what he was doing – for a second, then she returned his playfulness with a light slap on the arm, unaware that her cheeks were still flaming.

It wasn't a perfect existence, but it felt very much like it.

Despite keeping a substantial part of his attention on Tsunemori, he was still habitually looking out for anything suspicious or promising. At this time, the residential district was quiet; unemployment was virtually nonexistent under the Sibyl System, so the inhabitants of the neighborhood would either be at work, resting or enjoying their time off elsewhere. Or at least, that would have been the norm for one of the newer estates.

What was more likely was that those shoddily maintained, corroded walls on either side of the street were housing illegal gatherings. A large number of them were harmless, such as congregations of unlicensed artists where the participants were more likely to be sent to therapy than arrested, but Kitazawa was also notorious for being a breeding ground of sorts for small-scale rebel gangs.

Even so, they weren't here to raid the apartments today. They'd probably net more than they could handle, and to begin with neither he nor Tsunemori saw the point in harassing relatively harmless people. They were usually the first to be flushed out by a raid and the actual criminals, last.

They'd been walking for a good fifteen minutes without coming across a single person, which spoke volumes about the condition of the area and its residents. Tsunemori had stopped him earlier with a hand over his wrist and a small shake of her head when he was about to activate the Comissa-chan hologram, but two people walking down the street in formal, clean office wear screamed 'police' almost as much as the disproportioned pink and white mascot did. If there had been anyone planning to make their way around the buildings without coming into range of the street scanners, they would have presumably revised their plans now.

From the corner of his eye, he could see curtains roughly drawn, windows haphazardly shut just in time for them to walk past and pretend that they didn't notice the conspicuous flash of movement. As it was, they went almost to the end of the street before they came across anyone.

Ginoza missed her at first, his eyes passing over the faded clothes that blended almost seamlessly into the peeling paint of the foyer like there wasn't a living breathing human there. Tsunemori was more astute, and at first he couldn't grasp why she was veering off towards the small block sitting on the street corner until he followed her line of sight and found the figure slouched against the wall, just behind the clouded glass doors of the apartment building.

"Excuse me…" Tsunemori called out as she approached, though she stopped a fair distance away from the open doors. "Good afternoon. We're from the Ministry of Welfare and—"

"You're with the cops." A piercing stare accompanied the woman's statement, along with a near-convulsive tightening of her grip on the ragged bundle she clutched to her chest. Hollow eyes, thin cheeks and long hair bundled into a loose ponytail reminded Ginoza of the adults who had lived before Sibyl, adults who had failed to adapt to the system and ended up marginalized by it; on second inspection, he didn't think that she was much older than Tsunemori, but she seemed years and worlds away. Oversized clothing smothered her small frame. As an afterthought, he noted that despite her worn appearance, her clothes were decidedly clean, as were the nails curled into the bundle she held protectively.

Tsunemori didn't sugarcoat her words. "Yes, we are," she replied bluntly. "Can we ask you some questions?"

The dark eyes flickered from the Inspector, to the Enforcer, to the shadowed corridor that led deeper into the building, before settling once more on the Inspector still standing under the sun. "Sure." Her casual tone belied a tense wariness to her demeanor, akin to a bird prepared to take flight at a moment's notice.

"Do you live in this block?"

"Yes."

"And you are usually around here?"

"Yes."

"Even in the daytime?"

"Yes."

Curt answers followed terse questions. Tsunemori professionally kept her eyes trained on the woman from a good three meters away, but that respect was taken and carelessly tossed aside without a second glance. The woman never glanced at them even once as she rattled off her answers.

"Are you unemployed?"

"On maternity leave."

The lie slipped out smoothly, without a moment's hesitation; practiced, made salable by the swaddled baby she clutched close. If asked, Ginoza couldn't explain exactly what made it a lie. It simply felt like one. He supposed this was what his father would have called 'intuition', his favorite word.

Surely Tsunemori picked up on that as well, even if she ignored it and continued her inquiry. "How long have you been on leave?"

"Does it matter?" A hint of irritability broke through the deadpan and was quickly suppressed.

"This is just to determine how reliable your information will be." Tsunemori didn't falter in the least. Her expression remained calm and amiable.

While his superior questioned the resident, Ginoza let his gaze wander along the pavement. A crow perched haughtily atop the pole at the corner of the street, comfortably resting in the middle of four Psycho-Pass scanners. One of the scanners was pointed at the entrance of the building they were currently in front of, and it was almost a given that their witness was out of range, conveniently so.

Not that it mattered much to him. Nor, apparently, to Tsunemori as long as she was cooperative. It was standard practice to note down a witness' particulars; if they had tried that here, they probably wouldn't be talking to her now. Latent criminals outside the facilities didn't take well to being identified when they were well aware that they were latent criminals.

"Are you aware that—"

"Yeah, yeah, people are disappearing." The woman broke in, rolling her eyes. "You're wasting your time here. No one cares. We don't anything out of messing with the police, but no one's desperate enough to get involved in shifty business either."

"You seem to know quite a lot even though this case is hardly reported in the news," Ginoza pointed out, speaking for the first time.

She laughed dryly. "I live here." With an unexpected tenderness, she secured her dozing child and got to her feet. "Try the club three streets over. They meet there some nights, but not always. I don't care enough to find out where else, and anyway you didn't hear this from me." There was an air of finality in her words, and she reaffirmed it by turning her back on them and disappearing down the darkened corridor.

Ginoza exchanged a look with Tsunemori. It seemed that all of Division 1 would be spending quality time in this neighborhood starting from now.

* * *

The shadows shortened as the sun climbed to its peak, darkening in contrast to the painted and glossed cars around them that brightened along with the light. Ginoza reclined in the seat with one arm over his eyes. The heat and the light were not conducive to taking a nap.

Neither were the slender fingers playing with his other hand. Having successively tugged his glove off, they wove themselves between his fingers and felt surprisingly cool against his skin. They trailed around the ridges of his knuckles, hopped between joints, followed the curve of his nails – all this tirelessly, as though it was something fascinating and new.

He hadn't expected that a latent criminal would throw them such a huge lead. It was one thing to believe that Sibyl's judgment wasn't the be all and end all of morality, another to actually see it in action. He should have known better, seeing that he was a latent criminal himself. It had more effect on Tsunemori than it did on him anyway; ever since they returned to the car to wait for Inspector Shimotsuki and Kunizuka, she had been restless and impatient for something. And yet she didn't seem aware of it at all.

He lifted his arm to peer at Tsunemori. She was absorbed in her little game, but not so much that she didn't notice him moving. A smile, sheepish and somehow tantalizing, flitted across her features.

"Sorry, am I disturbing you?"

He stared at her long enough to make her start fidgeting, with his hand clasped between both of hers.

"… No," he finally answered, cracking a smile at her.

Relief crossed her face, and she went back to tracing the lines on his palm without a second glance.

Ginoza let his arm relax against his eyelids once more, silently counting the passing minutes and heartbeats between them that suddenly seemed inadequate.

* * *

_End of chapter 5_


	6. clouds on the wind

Notes: Last update before I go back to school.

* * *

||6. clouds on the wind

Electric blue lights, flickering and buzzing, proclaimed the establishment's name as 'F VER' – the first E having sadly ceased functioning at a time prior to their arrival. A thundering bass spilled through the ratty back door, boisterous yet unaccompanied, leaving Ginoza to guess at the kind of tune it carried.

Tsunemori's hand was tucked inside her jacket as she eyed the door swinging shut. Her face was lit by the muted aqua glow of the Dominator responding to her touch, and as she pulled her fingers away from the shoulder holster the light died, leaving her face in shadow.

In his shadow, to be precise. According to Kunizuka, Fever was reasonably popular as an after-work hangout among young adults living in the area; it was located furthest from the other event spaces which were indefinitely seedier, and somewhat selective about the bands that were allowed to perform on their premises. For those reasons, Fever would have been among the last event spaces that they investigated had they not been tipped off.

None of them stood out too much on their first infiltration attempt the day before, when he scoped out the nightclub with Tsunemori, but today Kunizuka and Inspector Shimotsuki went in with hologram costume devices. The other two remained close by as backup.

Though remaining inconspicuous while loitering beside a doorway was easier said than done.

"Just a tip: no one looks too closely at drunken people making out," Kunizuka had said in response to his concern, while fiddling with the settings on the compact.

Ginoza flushed scarlet. Thankfully, it wasn't too visible in the dark. Probably. "Wha— what are you implying?"

She raised an eyebrow as the device activated itself, replacing her suit with a sleeveless top and denim shorts. "I was merely suggesting what the Inspector and I tried yesterday. I wasn't implying anything," she stated, with a meaningful stare that said 'but you've implied plenty yourself.'

Inspector Shimotsuki, clad in a fitting hologram dress and shawl, clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle a laugh, unsuccessfully. "So… so gullible…" she gasped between giggles. Still grinning, she took both of Tsunemori's hands in her own. "Congratulations, Tsunemori-san."

"Um… Thank you?" Tsunemori glanced at him, her expression simultaneously exasperated and amused.

… Alright, so he did fall for the bait, but they hadn't planned to keep it secret to begin with. Was it?

And Kunizuka's advice was precisely how he came to be standing with his face inches away from Tsunemori, his palms on the gritty brick wall either side of her, trying to resist the urge to laugh nervously or retreat from their awkward (and doubtlessly unconvincing) pretense. Or both.

* * *

The door swung open once more, with a strained creak audible over the suddenly loud bass. Tsunemori's hand shot forward and grabbed hold of his tie, giving it a good hard tug. Unprepared, his mouth collided clumsily against her cheekbone. She didn't notice; her eyes remained fixed on the widening gap between the door and doorjamb. He strained to do the same, but it was considerably more difficult to see anything from his angle.

A painful slam followed the creaking. The music receded to being background noise.

"Ginoza, did you really take it seriously? I was joking." Kunizuka's characteristic deadpan rang through the darkness.

Tsunemori sighed and released him. He immediately straightened up and took a step back, surreptitiously fixing his tie.

The problem with Kunizuka, he decided, was that it was nigh impossible to tell when she was joking, or when she was anything but dead serious. In that way, she was worse than Karanomori when she was teasing.

"Did you find anything?" Unlike him, Tsunemori was all business.

Inspector Shimotsuki reached inside her pocket, her real pocket, causing the hologram to ripple and break into pixels. Swiftly, Kunizuka's fingers locked around her wrist. "Not here."

They left the vicinity of the club and returned to the car park three streets away. Ginoza heard a distinct sigh from the backseat as the car started and cool dry air filled the interior.

"So, what did you find?" Tsunemori asked as they left the district and its flickering lights behind. She was perched on the edge of her seat, ignoring the road and turning back as far as she could.

Kunizuka deactivated her holo-costume and handed the compact back to Tsunemori. "We didn't find any evidence that the club is connected to the disappearances, but there's definitely some form of organized crime going on there."

"Drugs and falsifying documents mostly," Inspector Shimotsuki agreed, also deactivating her costume device. She reached into her suit pocket and pulled out a clear plastic bag. "They were quite willing to sell us some of their wares."

Ginoza scrutinized the small bag of tablets pinched between Inspector Shimotsuki's fingers. It was similar to the ones at the pharmacy used to package medicine, except that this one came with no labels. "How did you convince them that you two were genuine customers?"

"A few drinks," Kunizuka replied flatly.

"… You let a minor drink?"

"Ah, no!" Inspector Shimotsuki waved her hands around, a placating smile on her face. "We ordered the same drinks, and Yayoi-san switched our glasses when hers was almost empty. It was amazing, I didn't even notice at first."

One of the simplest tricks in the book, and yet Inspector Shimotsuki sounded so enamored of it. Her comment was reminiscent of the way Tsunemori once looked up to Enforcers, his father and Kougami in particular, not so long ago. Subconsciously, his gaze flicked over to her. She had been listening to everything without saying a word, idly turning the baby pink compact over in her hands.

Again, he couldn't help thinking that if they were still around, progress would be much faster. But then they weren't, and lamenting their absence wasn't going to change anything. As the one left behind, he had to make up for their loss.

"And what about the drugs?" she asked, noticing the silence.

Kunizuka shrugged. "They called it 'Concealer' and that was the only name I got out of listening to their conversations. Most likely, it artificially clears clouded Hues, but I'll have Shion run a test on them in the morning just to be sure."

"Do that, please." Tsunemori resettled into her seat. "Depending on the results, we might need to investigate the place more thoroughly."

It sounded as if all she already had something in mind, a hypothesis of sorts that she just needed to confirm. He had one of his own as well, but he was curious if it aligned with hers.

"Should I ask Shion to look out for anything?" Kunizuka inquired.

"No, thank you. I don't want to contaminate the results before they're out," she replied distractedly as she finally slipped the compact into her pocket.

* * *

They arrived at the Bureau basement at half past one in the morning, by which Inspector Shimotsuki was falling asleep on Kunizuka's shoulder. Upon being woken, she was apologetic; Tsunemori waved it off and chided her about going home immediately to get proper sleep.

Ginoza expected Tsunemori to leave directly from the basement as well, but she didn't, instead trailing along as he entered the building with Kunizuka. Until Kunizuka peeled off to leave the drug sample at the lab so Karanomori could start work first thing in the morning, leaving them to pad through the silent corridors on their own.

He didn't need to be escorted back to his quarters. He hadn't ever needed to be.

"There's something you want to talk about," he prompted.

She gave him one of those smiles – a bit sheepish, a bit enigmatic, some teasing, and contentment tying them all together. "I can't walk my own boyfriend back without a reason?"

Apart than the fact that it should have been the other way around, with him walking her home after a late shift, saying their good night's and goodbyes at her door… Too late for that now.

And was that what he was now? It was a big step to take, but he couldn't deny that he wanted it. Wanted her, wanted to belong to her on a personal level.

Noticing the change in his demeanor, she hastily returned to the topic. "Well, I just wanted to know what you thought about… this case." Her voice had quieted, her smile muted.

"I don't think my suspicions are too far from yours," he answered carefully. "They're organized, but there seems to be a lack of reach for a criminal syndicate. I can't say until we know more, but it doesn't look like one."

"Mm…" Tsunemori wore an expression of deep contemplation. "I agree with you on those counts, Ginoza-san."

"What are you unsure of?"

"About that… We'll find out when Karanomori-san runs the test tomorrow." She took the last few steps to his door with renewed vigor, darting ahead of him and stopping to face him fully. "Can I ask about one more thing?"

"What is it?" She was between him and the door, which felt oddly like a sign that he didn't have a choice to begin with.

It probably wasn't directly related to the case since she had brightened up considerably, like she was a few minutes before. "You were very uncomfortable back there, outside the club."

Oh. He'd rather not talk about that. In fact, he'd rather not remember most of it, like how half a step forward would have her pressed flush against him and how unbearably _curious_ he was about that particular feeling. They might have been only pretending, but it felt like he was toeing a thin line between pretense and reality.

Tsunemori laughed, a light tinkling that shattered his train of thought. "I found it a bit fun, actually, but you were too stiff to be convincing. Maybe we can try something else tomorrow."

He gave her an apologetic look – though what he was apologizing for, he wasn't exactly sure. When did a straightforward job become this confusing? Probably about the time Tsunemori was assigned to Division 1.

She lowered her eyes to her hands, twisting aimlessly. "Um, it's late," she said, pink coloring her cheeks, pink that stood out vividly under the stark white lights. "Good night, Ginoza-san." Quickly, she raised herself up on tiptoe and pecked him on the cheek.

He couldn't help thinking that it really should be the other way around as he caught her wrist, stopping her from leaving. "Wait." She tensed up under his touch, and he almost reconsidered it – almost, but didn't before he pulled her close so that her back was against his chest.

"Gi— Ginoza-san?" Uncertainty and worry made her voice brittle, and she remained a tense ball of nervous energy in his arms. "Is there something you need?"

It was late, she lived a distance away from the Bureau, and they were still expected at the office later in the day. He was aware of that, knew that he should let her rest, and yet he didn't want to let go. All those concerns were selfish and irrational – and insignificant compared to the comfort her presence offered.

Ginoza buried his face in her short hair and murmured, "Can you stay for a while?" Under the smoke and decay and whatever else they'd picked up out in the field, he thought he recognized the synthesized scent of apples clinging to her.

One slight hand reached up and rested upon his arm, lightly, so much so that he could barely feel the pressure of her fingertips. "Of course," she breathed, letting her body relax against his gradually. "Always."

* * *

The Comprehensive Analysis Laboratory was already open for business at ten in the morning.

Ginoza still had an hour before his appointment with the prosthetist, and he thought he'd stop by to check on the results of the analysis beforehand. Now that he was actually standing outside the lab, it brought to mind Karanomori's ultimatum. And her usual undying curiosity.

On second thought, he could spend the morning tending to his plants. That was a safer option.

As the possibility crossed his mind, the doors to the lab slid open, revealing a cheery Karanomori on the other side. "How nice of you to stop by, Ginoza-kun! Where were you yesterday?"

Too late to retreat now. Far too late. He let Karanomori hustle him into the lab and while she made herself comfortable with a cigarette, he spied the packet of white tablets lying on a sterile metal tray.

"Is the analysis done?"

Karanomori, in the midst of lighting up, gave him a blank stare. The lighter clicked once, twice, before understanding dawned on her. "Oh! You mean that thing Yayoi brought back," she exclaimed with her teeth still closed on a tiny cylindrical stick, muddling all her consonants. Frowning, she lowered the lighter and pulled the cigarette out of her mouth with her free hand. "I ran the test first thing this morning, and there's something interesting there, but before that…"

He suppressed a long-suffering sigh, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Karanomori, we've been working on this case for a while…"

"All in due time." She grinned at him. "Now, did you make up with Akane-chan?" She kept an expectant eye on him as she replaced her cigarette and brought the lighter to the end for the second time.

"… Yes," he admitted reluctantly.

"I knew it! That's our Akane-chan!" Karanomori looked pleased, even more than he was about it. "So what happened after that? How far have you gotten? Oh, it can't be very, surely, you're such an herbivore… But then Yayoi said… mm…"

It was amazing how, in less than ten seconds, she managed to imply a whole host of things including, but not limited to, his being a relationship with Tsunemori, that it resulted more from Tsunemori's effort than his, that he was taking things slowly, and that his admission was absolutely redundant because she already knew about it. It was amazing, and irritating.

"Why do you ask when you already know?" he groused, but he wasn't entirely serious. It was just Karanomori, and he got used to it long ago.

"… Ah, and I should talk to Akane-chan about guys soon…" she trailed off, taking a drag on her cigarette. "Don't be like that, Ginoza-kun. You didn't even have the courtesy to stop by yesterday and let me know that you two made up. I was waiting all day." She pouted mockingly and swung her chair around to face the massive screens. A finger tapped idly on a key without entering anything. "It's not the same hearing it from someone else."

Ginoza had nothing to say to that. He wasn't naïve enough to believe that was the end of it, so he waited.

"Does she know yet?"

The sudden change in direction threw him off. Karanomori was still focused on her screens, but her eyes were glassy and her index finger still tapped unceasingly at a single key.

"Know what?"

"That you're in love with her."

She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, and in many ways it was. Before this moment, he hadn't even dared to view it – view _them_ – as something so binding, so final. And despite that, he was sure that was what it was for him. Binding, permanent and final.

"… I guess so." Interestingly, traces of crushed white powder lined the edges and vertices of the metal tray. Cleanliness was clearly not a priority here.

He heard a drawn-out sigh. "Because you told her, or are you assuming that she does?" No reply was forthcoming, and when she figured that out she sighed, longer and heavier than the first. "Men," she muttered, the word disparaging and condescending and sympathetic all at once. "Well, at least it's not something either of you take lightly."

She continued mumbling to herself, absentmindedly tapping at various keys when pop-up windows demanded her attention. Ginoza waited for a few moments before clearing his throat, causing her to look up and regard him with puzzlement.

"The analysis?"

"I sent it to everyone this morning," she stated nonchalantly, without any trace of guilt. Her behavior could have been predicted, in hindsight. Another pop-up at the bottom of her screen started flashing, and her typing went from absentminded to focused, precise. "The last part will be what you want, I should think."

"Thank you." There didn't seem to be anything else to discuss, work was streaming in for her at a steady rate and she would most probably not appreciate his presence, so he quietly made his way towards the doors.

"Ginoza-kun?"

He paused, but didn't turn. "What?"

"I don't think I need to say this, but treat Akane-chan well, alright?"

She had that right – she didn't need to say it. He intended to do that from the start. All the same, Karanomori only meant well.

"I'll do my best," he promised.

* * *

There was still some time left before his appointment, but not enough to justify making a detour anywhere else. The prosthetist had an anteroom where he could wait, and it was as good a place as any to browse through the report. He called up his inbox on his holo-device. Karanomori's message was right at the top and he tapped once on the projected screen to open it.

That was one change he didn't notice until much later, when the discomfort of living with a prosthesis had faded into something he thought about once a day instead of once every hour. The holo-device that was given to Enforcers served the same functions as the ones that Inspectors used, with the exception of making unauthorized calls and communicating over the internet. And it was difficult to remove, because it was meant to track an Enforcer's movements. The inconvenience of having one extra piece of lightweight metal locked around his wrist paled in comparison to having his entire arm replaced by metal and plastic, at first.

Ginoza didn't think of it often. While it was exceedingly difficult to remove the holo-device unaided, he never doubted Kougami's resourcefulness. The other runaway from Division 2 managed it in the middle of a riot, much less him. Why was he even thinking about it now? It wasn't important, and more than that, it wouldn't change anything.

Shaking his head slightly to rid himself of those thoughts, he started on Karanomori's report. The first three quarters of it were dominated by a systematic breakdown on the chemical components: mass, percentage mass of individual elements, chemical composition and concentration of the active ingredient. He flicked past the statistics with only a cursory glance; they might mean something to Tsunemori, with her background in science, but as far as he was concerned he was in no position to interpret the data.

Abruptly, words replaced the numbers and letters, and he had to scroll back up to begin reading the analyst's comments from the top.

_-artificially clears Hue, inefficient compared to other drugs  
-composition varies among tablets, likely from two or more batches  
-significant margin of error for percentage composition of active ingredient, not lethal  
-likely to be manually produced instead of manufactured  
-non-addictive, absence of relevant compound_

Her comments were concise but covered all the relevant points. The results confirmed what he suspected up till now: that the organization was small-scale and that their activities did not include profiteering. Leaving politics as the other possible motive, specifically anti-Sibyl objectives.

It complicated matters, especially when Tsunemori seemed to have her own issues with the System. Himself, he was not so sure. On one hand was justice, the other mercy. He had his time on both sides to know that the aftermath of pursuing one, whichever it was, would bring misery to someone, somewhere.

* * *

"I am aware of your busy schedule, Ginoza-san, but I'll need to arrange a second appointment next week."

He felt a faint prick of annoyance at being told this at a time when they were making a critical breakthrough in the case. "Does it have to be next week?" he asked, barely keeping his displeasure from his voice.

"The sooner the better," the prosthetist confirmed, scanning through his medical file and stopping occasionally to add a note.

Of course the prosthetist would know best as a trained professional, but it sounded like a waste of time. "What is it for?" he tried. If it wasn't that important he could try to postpone it, maybe indefinitely.

"Your prosthesis needs to be replaced."

"Replaced? Why?" He had only been using it for five months, more or less. On the other hand, in his eight years of working in public safety, he never saw Masaoka change his prosthesis even once, and he kept closer tabs on his father than he would have admitted.

The prosthetist picked up the digital file he had been perusing and brought it over. He displayed it in its entirety before tapping on various figures and numbers to enlarge them. "Well, as you know, at the current level of medical and engineering technology, all grades and categories of myoelectric prostheses come equipped with auxiliary power sources. Generally, a patient who has adapted to his prosthesis will not have to check in unless it malfunctions, which is not often."

"However, while technology can maintain it," he continued, this time selecting several figures and producing a graph, a stark yellow line that rose gradually on blue background, "the initial fitting of the prosthesis requires human impetus and judgment. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

If there was a point to his explanation, Ginoza didn't get it at all. He indicated as much in response.

"Well, to put it simply, you need to have it refitted. It's to be expected, of course, what with your first fitting arranged directly after being released from isolation."

This much, he did understand. In short, his prosthesis was now lighter than his natural arm. A minor decrease in balance and its implications were hardly at the top of his priorities, especially when he was already used to it.

"Is Friday afternoon a good time?" Catching sight of Ginoza's stubborn expression, he added, "I should hardly need to remind you that there are medical consequences to using a poorly-fitted prosthesis, and as your physician I am telling you that you should get it changed as soon as possible. It won't be as long as the first procedure since the implants will be reused."

The first procedure had taken a day. He felt the need to ask how long.

"Four hours, barring any complications."

Four valuable hours, lost just like that. He didn't become an Enforcer to be dead weight, but he was still easily the weakest link in the group.

Maybe the prosthetist read his mood, or he was simply doing his job. Either way, he said, "I'll put your appointment on Friday afternoon. If anything happens and you can't make it, inform me when you can."

Ginoza mechanically thanked him and left the clinic.

Now wasn't the time to dwell on it. Whether he was dead weight or not, he still had a job to do and that would have to be enough.

* * *

Bleak and lifeless, with too-clean floors and walls. The isolation facility hadn't changed since the first time she set foot in it. It was still a thoroughly miserable place.

The first time Akane stepped into an isolation facility alone was in the weeks following Makishima's death. The CID was a mess, Division 1 was in tatters and work was no longer the refuge from uncertainty that it once was. Recruiting new Enforcers was one of her many responsibilities, one that she put off for as long as she could while a myriad of issues leaked in from everywhere.

Recruitment meant visiting the isolation facility, and the isolation facility meant reminders of the first time she was guided through one, reminders of a latent criminal who had grown up in a place as loveless as it was lifeless. Reminders of how the fragile civilization she lived in was predicated upon violating the rights of a minority group who were innocent thus far – judged by another group who had, among them, members responsible for the crimes that latent criminals were imprisoned to prevent.

The irony made her want to laugh. Or throw up. It was sickening, and the only thing more repulsive than that was how fundamental it was to maintaining order.

And no one could know of it, so she pasted neutral smiles over her disgust and went on with life, until she almost convinced herself that the normalcy she faked was how she always was.

She'd visited Ginoza first, to complete the administrative procedures that his demotion had initiated. And out some feeling of obligation, she supposed. She only had to meet him once – then it became twice and thrice and beyond that, because it was easier to watch him come to terms with the society that cut him off, tossed him aside and forgot about him, than to reconcile the abhorrence she harbored for the system with the daily act of protecting it. Even if sometimes she just wanted to scream the truth of the Sibyl System at him, scream at him not to speak of it so agreeably, she kept coming back. Back to the stronghold of despair and misery and boredom.

Until one day, he left with her.

The interactive screen by the door read her Hue and turned from red to green; the heavy metal doors slid apart, letting her through yet another layer of security. She thought about the young mother who had tipped them off in Kitazawa – she would have been sent to a place like this if caught, taken away from her child. Akane made the conscious decision to let her walk away even knowing she was a latent criminal, and nothing terrible had come out of it.

Insignificant things like that made her feel like she might actually live to see the day that they turned off the Sibyl System. It was a good feeling, especially coming so soon after her newly-established relationship with Ginoza. And about him… she made a mental note to take him with her the next time she came back to the facility, if he was willing. She wanted his opinion on the potential new addition to their division.

One more set of doors, one more Hue check and she would be out in the sunlight again, away from the oppressive optimism of the timed announcements and the hopeless uninterested stares of the prisoners. Out in the world where a trap of contradictions awaited instead.

The screen turned green. Warm air, carrying the scent of newly-cut grass, gusted in.

Akane stepped into the midday sun, took a breath of fresh air, and felt a stab of pity for those who couldn't.

* * *

_End of chapter 6_


End file.
